FromTumblr: Gosh no. If there is one trope that I absolutely despise, it's when everything is just a dream.
RJRMovieFan: Is it her brothers? Who knows.
Malexfaith: Thank you.
SunDanceQT: On the first note, this chapter dives there as well.
Pixie1913: It's going to be a hard read from here on out. Although, there are some nice things coming too.
Guest: I am nearly late to work every day because of writing this, so I don't feel bad if anyone is late from reading it, lol.
Arrhythmia
You, with your switching sides,
And your wildfire lies, and your humiliation.
You have pointed out my flaws again,
As if I don't already see them.
I walk with my head down,
Try to block you out, 'cause I never impress you.
I just want to feel okay again.
I bet you got pushed around;
Somebody made you cold, but the cycle ends right now,
'Cause you can't lead me down that road.
And you don't know what you don't know:
Someday I'll be living in a big old city,
And all you're ever gonna be is mean.
- Taylor Swift
"What in the high heavens happened?" Aubrey's mother demanded from the doorway – blocking their way in, "You can't bring her in my house like this."
"What do you want me to do with her, Laura?" James asked.
Aubrey stood barefoot on the cool grass. She needed a shower. She needed to be clean. Just keep on keeping on. Why wouldn't it get out of her head? She drew in a shaky breath through her mouth. At least her nose had stopped bleeding.
"Take her out back," her mother finally determined, "Hose her like you do the boys."
Aubrey had never been hosed. She had seen her father hose the boys, after they were covered in mud, and he had made it clear that it wasn't appropriate to hose her down. She agreed. He would strip the boys naked and spray off the dirt. It was great fun for them. It sounded humiliating to her.
"Someone bring me a towel." James grabbed Aubrey by the hand and hauled her around back. "Keep your underwear on." He released her and walked over to the hose to unroll it.
Aubrey stared at him.
"Did you understand me?"
"Yes, Sir." Aubrey sat down on the grass and pulled off her socks. Her pants. Her shirt. At least her hair was in a bun and clean, albeit some dirt and twigs. She could wash that in the shower. She folded her clothes up neatly beside her.
"Stop folding trash," James said, "Stand up."
"Why doesn't Aubrey have boobs?" JJ asked, bringing a towel and an old washcloth, "Girls have boobs, boys have penises. Maybe she isn't either."
Aubrey covered her chest and crossed her legs. "Go away."
"Everyone is a boy or a girl." James snatched the towel from him and snapped across the side with it. "Stop looking at your sister naked. Go play with your brother."
JJ slumped away, rubbing his side.
Aubrey didn't know why she wanted him to get in trouble so badly. It hadn't even been JJ who had hit her. But her father thought it was JJ, and he got to go play.
"Spread." James tossed her the washcloth.
Aubrey somehow managed to catch it. She spread out into a half split and held her arms out to the sides.
James started spraying her with the hose.
It was cold. It was so cold.
"Do you want to stand here all day?" he asked.
Aubrey looked down and wiped away the blood and vomit that had soaked through her shirt to her stomach and chest – then washed her arms, her neck, finally her face. She was still cold even when he shut off the water.
James approached her with the towel and wrapped it too tightly around her. "If you weren't so obsessed with beating your brothers at everything," he muttered to himself before addressing her, "Is that what we should have named you? Aubrey 'Has To Be First' Posen? Should we change your name from Aubrey Lynn to that? Answer me."
"No, Sir." It didn't make sense how he could say that and then proceed to get so mad if she wasn't the top at everything she did. It didn't make sense.
James fastened the towel so it wouldn't fall. "Go take a real shower then find something to read."
Aubrey turned and walked inside, glancing into her brothers' rooms on her way to the shower. She was still angry. But, somehow, she didn't feel much of anything at all. It all felt numb. Her insides were like the times she fell asleep on her arm, before the pins and needles could even think of starting. And, on the outside, she was cold – so cold that that part of her was numb too. She closed the bathroom door and turned the shower water on as hot as it would go without burning her.
xxxxx
Aubrey put on a dress to feel better. Not a fancy or expensive one, in case her nose started to bleed again. It was a soft, light blue sweater dress with black leggings. It was only a step down from being as comfortable as her pajamas. I'm going to turn in early tonight, she thought to herself and knelt down in front of her Encyclopedia set, I have a long day ahead. I better drink my coffee strong. That was what her father always said before long days when he was tired. It made her laugh inside her head to say it to herself.
Her brothers would never touch an Encyclopedia. Aubrey pulled them off the shelf then grabbed her doll from her hiding spot behind them. Kit Kittredge was her name. She was from the 1930s – representing the Great Depression era. Aubrey didn't quite know what to do with her – but she knew that she loved her. She placed the books back in their rightful spots, then held Kit up in front of her. Stop crying before I give you something to cry about, she thought at her, Grow up. Guilt consumed her. I'm sorry. It's okay.
Aubrey hugged Kit to her and pet her hair. She turned around and scanned her room for a brush.
"Aubrey," Liam whispered.
Aubrey spun around.
"I need block towers," Liam said.
"Build them yourself."
"I can't," Liam said, "They fall over."
"Ask JJ. I am busy."
"Dad took him." Liam stuck out his lower lip. "You can bring your toy."
Aubrey sighed when she realized he wasn't going to let her alone. She slowly stood up and walked out of her room to his with him following her. The blocks were scattered all over the floor. Shapes and colors everywhere. It physically hurt to look at them; she just couldn't locate the source of the pain.
"Make them skyscrapers," Liam said, "I need them for the war."
Aubrey didn't ask questions. She built the towers by color, stacking the blocks as high as they would go without toppling over. It felt good to line them up in a pattern.
Liam set to work on lining up his army men. "Do you want to play? Your toy can be the giant, and the army can kill it."
Aubrey hugged her doll tight with one arm. "I do not want the army to kill her." She stacked the last block then stood to admire her work.
"Then she can kill the army!" Liam replied.
"I built your towers," Aubrey said, "Now leave me alone."
"You're a bad sister," Liam pouted.
Aubrey stepped out into the hallway – pausing for a moment to watch Liam pick up two army men and begin knocking down all the blocks. Why build something just to knock it down?
"Aubrey," James said, walking up the stairs.
Aubrey turned around. "I was just building him towers."
"Come downstairs."
Aubrey obeyed without question. She followed him down the steps, leaning her bodyweight against the railing when he wasn't looking. Her mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner. She had been in a good mood earlier, so Aubrey decided to press her luck. She hated when she had to make the decision to press her luck. It was always what people called a 'gamble'. "Mom?" She stopped while her father kept walking out the back door.
"Listen to your father," her mother said.
Aubrey swallowed her nerves. Literally. "I don't feel good." That admittance was always a gamble too. But it couldn't be worse than whatever she was going outside to do. "I feel like I'm going to throw up."
"You always feel like you're going to throw up," her mother pointed out, "Listen."
Aubrey nodded. That much was true. She followed her father outside to where he and JJ were standing on the patio.
"Stand right here," James said.
Aubrey walked over and stood in front of JJ, facing him. Maybe he was going to have to apologize to her. She had to remind herself again that he didn't hit her. Anger at him boiled inside of her anyway.
James knelt down beside her. "Look at my eyes."
Aubrey turned her entire body.
"If you can't pack the first punch," James told her, "You hit back twice as hard. Hit him."
"What?!" JJ yelled.
Aubrey couldn't breathe.
James took her doll, then grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her back toward her brother.
Aubrey lifted her hand and gave JJ a light, open handed smack on the cheek.
"What was that?" James asked and smacked Aubrey's cheek. "Did that hurt?"
It hurt her nose. "Daddy, I don't feel good."
"She's sick!" JJ yelled, "She doesn't feel good! She doesn't feel good! She has to go inside!"
James looked furious at her words. He grabbed her arm and positioned it, then moved it in slow motion at JJ's cheek. "That's your 'x'."
Aubrey felt dizzy. She was going to puke again. She was.
JJ's legs were shaking.
"You want to hit a girl?" James asked, "She's going to hit you back, and you're going to take it like a man."
Aubrey lifted her fist. She just wanted to get it over with for them both.
JJ gasped a little and froze up – his hands moving to cover his privates.
Aubrey glanced down. The inside of his jeans grew increasingly dark and a puddle began to form at his feet. He was peeing himself.
JJ looked at her watching him, his face bright red. He made a loud, fake retching sound at her. "Butt-mouth!"
Aubrey clocked him right in the jaw.
JJ crumpled straight down into the puddle, bawling.
"Go inside." James demanded and handed the doll back.
Aubrey did.
xxxxx
Liam walked into the bathroom not long after Aubrey walked inside and held her hair back for her, lightly patting her back. "Do you want Mommy?"
Aubrey shook her head then heaved again. Vomit burned her nose – something that only happened when she got herself really worked up. She hated it. In Aubrey's top ten worst feelings list (she made a lot of lists), vomit coming out her nose was number one. It hurt even worse now that her nose was injured.
"Do you want Dad?"
Aubrey shook her head again.
"Do you want JJ?"
Aubrey kept shaking her head. She wanted to be alone, but no one could seem to understand that. The one time she wanted them all to ignore her, they couldn't just leave her alone to just be by herself.
"Do you want me?"
The constant questioning was driving her crazy. Along with her stomach, Aubrey's head was starting to hurt from Liam's presence and annoyance. She folded her arms across the toilet and rested her forehead on them. She forgot how soft her dress was. The fabric felt calming rubbed back and forth between her thumb and fingers. It brought her back down. "I just…" Aubrey paused to breathe. "…want you…" More breathing. "…to go away."
"You're mean," Liam informed her.
Then why couldn't he leave?
"I is just…I is just trying to help you!" Liam said. "But you is just…you is just wanting to cry and throw up! You just has to grow up like Dad says, Aubrey!"
"I am not crying," Aubrey snapped. She sat up and unrolled a few squares of toilet paper to wipe her mouth and nose with, then flushed the toilet. She stood and towered over him. "I am grown up. Everybody throws up sometimes - even grown ups. Even Dad."
"I don't like you," Liam said.
Aubrey grabbed her doll from the floor. "I don't like you either." She shoulder checked him on the way out the door. Stupid boys. She growled out loud. Stupid everything. She didn't like anybody right now. She stormed into her room and over to her vanity, slamming her doll down on top of it. In the mirror, she examined the ugly bruise forming on her face. She was going to have to go to school looking like this on Monday. They were all going to make so much fun of her. She let out another growl then closed her eyes, clamped her lips together, and screamed.
Her anger didn't dissipate.
She flopped down into her chair and glared down at her knees.
She had to distract herself. She had to do something.
No more throwing up.
And definitely no crying.
Aubrey looked around her room for a few seconds before scrambling to her feet. She ran to her CD collection and grabbed her Wide Open Spaces album. She had saved all of her allowance to buy it a few months prior. Because if anything or anybody was worth all of Aubrey's hard work – it was The Dixie Chicks. She had checked off the days on her calendar for weeks, just waiting for January 15th, then took off to the CD store immediately after school. Best day of her life.
Perfect.
Aubrey marched over to her door and pretended to slam it, catching it at the very last second to close it quietly. She turned to her CD player and carefully popped in the disc, then propped the case up against it. Finally, she could have an audience in her own room now. She turned her chair around and sat her doll in it. Aubrey hated having an audience. She really did. Even at church. But at the same time, it made her feel important. She existed on stage. And she knew, she knew she did a good job. That's why they let her, a kid, sing in the choir.
The stage needed to be set. She pulled her rug into the middle of the floor. Grabbed her microphone and stand. This time, she wouldn't hook it up to the speaker, because no stupid brothers needed to know what she was up to. They could go eat worms. She adjusted the microphone height, always did, even though it never needed it. Who else was using it? No one. It just felt like an important thing to do. It felt professional. That was a big word she had learned recently.
And play.
Aubrey hit the button then ran back to behind the microphone.
It was too bad Aubrey was going to be a lawyer when she got older instead of a country singer.
Some people, Aubrey thought, got to be whatever they wanted. Maybe. It was hard to understand how that worked.
But one time, in the city, she saw a man dressed up as Dolly Parton. It was impersonation, another big word she learned. Her father had not been particularly kind to him (her?), especially when Aubrey asked him how he'd chosen such a unique career path. It was fascinating. Did his father want him to be Dolly Parton? How could one be a person that already existed? How much did that pay? She had a lot of questions, and those were just the beginning. Did he date men or women? Could men date men? Was he a man? Could women date women? Judging by her father's immediate reaction to this person being Dolly, these were questions that could never be asked out loud.
Aubrey held her microphone with one hand and the stand with the other.
Should have been different,
But it wasn't different, was it?
Same old story, Dear John, and so long.
It should have fit like a glove.
It should have fit like a ring,
Like a diamond ring,
A token of true love.
Should have all worked out,
But it didn't.
She should be here now,
But she isn't.
Aubrey felt calmer already.
There's your trouble, there's your trouble.
You keep seeing double with the wrong one.
You can't see I love you,
You can't see she doesn't.
But you just keep holding on.
There's your trouble.
And I can see you years from now in a bar,
Talking over a football game,
With that same big, loud opinion.
But nobody's listening.
Washed up and ranting about the same old bitter things.
Drunk and grumbling on about how I can't sing.