Coming Home Again (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 1) (4 page)

A mad rage
came over me and I stormed over to Miss May to square off with her. Before I
uttered a word, she grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me dead in the eyes.

“I done
told yo’ daddy that I caught sight of you. I had to tell ‘em. He my boss and I
ain’t gonna be lyin’.” She nodded her head sternly to emphasize her point.

I stood
there nearly choking on the hurt and tried to look away from her intense stare,
but she gave me a slight shake to get back my attention.

“You more
than welcome ‘round here as long as these here two eyes don’t catch sight of
you.”

I stared
into her chocolate eyes, confused.

“Do you
understand me, child? I ain’t gonna lie, but if I don’t actually see you then I
won’t be lyin’,
right
?” She eased so
close until our noses almost touched. She widened her eyes to convey her
message.

That’s when
I finally caught on to her drift. And that was the beginning of my disappearing
acts.

The
afternoons that Evan was at the house, I would escape to the back porch of the
restaurant or to the storage room in the kitchen. Snacks of hush puppies or
french fries and sweet tea would always find me. Miss May knew I was there, but
when my dad came storming in, proclaiming I had disappeared again, she would
always reply the same. “These two eyes ain’t laid sight on her today, sir.” I
knew my dad didn’t believe her because he would always look around and let out
a loud huff before stomping out of the kitchen.

I overheard
her mumbling under her breath after he departed one afternoon, “That fool need
to quit worryin’ where that girl sneaks off to and start worryin’ why.”

I did show
my appreciation to my saving grace by helping her out in any way I could find.
Sometimes I would snatch a basket of fresh corn and shuck it all for her so she
could put it into a Frogmore stew. Or I would pick through endless amounts of
crabmeat until my fingers were pruned from the damp meat and slide it back to
her when she turned her back to me. I didn’t care how tedious the task was, as
long as I got to stay away from Evan. I would have been willing to scrub the
men’s bathroom.

She saved me
from months of unknown mistreatment, and how did I reward her? I ran away from
her, without a second glance, the moment I got my chance. The realization that
I wronged so many in my quest to escape the ones that wronged me was becoming a
sharp regret that seemed to be piercing me deep within…

Chapter Five

The sun seems just as tired as I am and
is beginning to droop in the sky quickly as I make my way farther south. I know
I should just drive on through, but I decide to put off the inevitable for just
a bit longer. I hit the GPS screen on my dashboard and do a quick search for
the closest beach resort. After finding an appealing stop, I follow my car’s
direction to my destination.

The
beachfront resort and spa has ended up being my easiest decision of the day. I
take a deep cleansing breath as I enter the vast lobby, which feels heavenly
after being in the cramped confines of my car all day. The space is draped in
tranquility from whispering water fountains and sumptuous tropical plants. I
scoot up to the check-in counter and get lucky. The place is booked solid,
being that it is tourist season, but had a last-minute cancellation. I hurry
through check-in and find more peace in my oceanfront luxury suite.

The first
thing I do is open the glass doors to the balcony so I can listen to the
soothing melody of the peaceful seashore. Some of the tension eases away as I
stand by the window and watch the waves roll in under the moonlit sky. I’ve
always found the vacant night beaches to be such a seductive mystery. I feel as
though we are sharing an intimate secret that no one else is a privy to. I gaze
over this natural wonder for a while longer and allow it to emit its calming
effect over me.

After
getting settled, I call my best friend, and he answers on the first ring.
“Hey,” I say. “Just letting you know I’ve stopped for the night. Traffic’s been
bad and I don’t feel like driving in the dark.”

“Savannah?
What’s wrong with your voice?” I hear the concern in Lucas’s voice.

My little
screaming session earlier plays through my head. It’s left my throat feeling
like sandpaper got ahold of it in a severe way. “It’s nothing. I just think I’m
allergic to the South,” I say dryly.

“You know you
can just forget about the whole thing, or I can catch up with you so we can
face this together. Please let me be there for you, love.”

“That’s
awfully tempting, but I think this is something I need to take care of on my
own.” I really don’t want him to have to be in the midst of the chaos I am
about to step into. For one thing, the way my family deems fit to treat each
other is embarrassing. Moreover, Lucas deserves to be spared from as much of my
issues as possible. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you
too. If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.”

I hang up
the phone without replying. Sitting here on the edge of the bed, I rub my shaky
hands over my knees as the demons begin to dance. I roll my shoulders over and
over, but I am unable to shrug them off. As I glance around the room, my gaze
lands on a cocktail menu sitting on the nightstand. Drinking was something I
left back in college, but tonight I just want to hush those blame demons.
Before I can come to my senses, I call in an order. Maybe the booze will help
with my
allergies
. The hotel operator
sounds confused and a bit amused as I order a buffet of various drinks like a
pure idiot.

After the
cocktails arrive, I fill the large soaking tub and select an orange
fruity-looking concoction to medicate myself while I soak. I toss in some
complementary bath salts and ease into the steaming water that tingles along my
skin. After I am settled, I turn on the jets, hoping to work out the knots in
my shoulders. I reach over to the side of the tub to retrieve my fancy glass
and take a test sip. The first stings of the alcohol on my tongue remind me of
a home remedy Jean used to give us kids when we were sick. It was a combination
of vodka, lemon, and honey. I don’t know if it cured anything besides keeping
us out of our mother’s hair while we were sick. That potent potion would knock
you flat on your butt. Needless to say, we slept a lot when we were sick. I
guess that was a good thing for us all.

I rest my
head on the back of the enormous tub and sink a little farther down. As I watch
the water whirl around in all directions, the demons pick up on their dancing.
I’m lost…I’m bored…I’m worthless…I’m so
confused. Just slip under the water. Just let it overtake you and the pain will
be gone…

I chug the
rest of the sharp syrupy liquid and set the glass back down, nearly dropping it
in my haste. I sink farther into the steaming, vigorous water and feel as
though I’m losing control. All of a sudden, the room starts feeling too hot and
overwhelming. The water seems to hold me captive, and I can’t lift my arms with
my body feeling like lead. My fingertips start to tingle and I know I have to
get out of the tub before the attack overtakes me. It’s like this ugly monster
has crept up on me from nowhere, with its claws drawn. I finally muster the
strength to climb out and end up staggering into the sink vanity. The immediate
pain in my side distracts me enough from the attack so that I can grab a towel
and stumble to the bed. It’s too late to take my medicine and now that I
dabbled into the poison of alcohol, I don’t have a choice. I select another
toxic drink and gulp it down in one long swallow as I try to fend off the panic
from overtaking me, but I know it’s too late. My hands are trembling, and my
heart is racing at a skipping, hiccupping rate. I stretch across the bed and
watch the room blur out.

~
~ ~

“She’s
dying, Momma.” The words bellow from my trembling lips as I stare down at the
breathing corpse that once was my sister. “Please do something,” I beg.

“Julia Rose
is just being a drama queen,” Jean snaps as she stares down at Julia too.
Jean’s arms are crossed over her chest, and she is spitting mad. Her perfectly
curled blonde hair is dancing in a hushed quiver with her rage.

I ease my
sight from my mother and back towards my sick sister. I know I’m not looking at
a drama queen, but a broken girl. It takes one to know one—even though our
forms are broken differently, I’ve learned broken is still broken, regardless.
Julia lies on her side, facing away from us. It pains me to see her hipbone
jutting out under her gown in an unnatural way and her bony arm lies limply
over her wasted away waist. I slowly walk to the other side of the bed and
continue to stare down at her. Studying her features, I take in the hollowness
and severely sharp angles. Her eye sockets are sunk in her ashen skin, and it
makes me so scared. I try to capture her attention, but she only gazes to the
corner of the room. It’s like she’s here in this puny body, but gone completely
in spirit.

I point
over at the sodden sheets Julia is laying on. “But—”

“She’s just
a lovesick teenager and I won’t play these immature games with her!” Jean
growls at me and then turns her attention back to Julia. “Enough is enough. I
know you miss Evan, but seriously, Julia. You are just a child. He’s too old
for you anyway. Just get your butt up and eat already. I don’t have time for
this!” She storms out of the room, leaving me alone with my sick sister and my
overwhelming fear.

I find a
clean spot on the bed and have a seat. I cautiously sit here looking down at
her, scared that she is going to die and leave me alone with the memories.
Alone to survive the demons by myself. I’ll never survive them alone. I need
her to carry the burden with me. I know it’s selfish of me, because it’s
obvious the burden is killing her right before me. My hand reaches out to touch
her, but think better of it. I can’t tolerate touch anymore, and I want to
comfort her in this moment, but cannot get over my own fears to do so.
We are both so broken
.

I sit a
while longer, but cannot figure out a solution. Moreover, I really cannot
stomach being in this room for another minute. The pungent smell of ammonia and
body odor attacks my nose, and I am unable to inhale without the assault. I try
to stand and escape, but the filthy bed sheets begin to wrap around me, pulling
me farther onto the bed. The more I fight against it, the more I am consumed.
The sheet snakes its way around my neck aggressively, leaving me gasping for
the vile air. My vision darkens frightfully. By the next window of clarity, I
find my sister and me being swallowed up by the sinfully tarnished bed. She
ends up rolled on top of me, staring a ghostly stare with her pale, vacant
eyes. I try to scream, but the overpowering ammonia steals my breath. I’m
choking. Gagging. Gasping…

~
~ ~

My
trembling body nearly clears the bed in a jolt as the awful dream finally
releases me. It’s one of my many repeat nightmares. Asleep or awake, I can get
no peace. The only action I can muster is to lay here for a while, trying to
get my breathing and heart rate under control. I breathe deeply, trying to
chase the lingering ammonia and stench from my airway with the salty ocean air
filtering through the room. That pungent smell is one I will never be able to
forget. The whooshing sounds of the waves softly rolling onto the shore outside
filter in also from the open balcony door, so I place my focus there. I try to
conjure up the images of the night ocean as I concentrate on my breathing
exercises. I can see the ghostly white caps peeking from the water ever so
often and the twinkling night sky watching from overhead.
Breathe in… Breathe out…

Once I calm
down, I check the clock on my phone and disappointingly discover that I have
only slept for a few hours. I feel like I have already battled an entire
night’s sleep. I lick my dry lips and try to swallow a pasty swallow
uncomfortably. I’m parched, so I wearily grab a watered down drink and sling it
back, only to have my stomach protest. I dart to the bathroom just in time for
my body to exorcise the alcohol.

After the
retching finally passes, I wash my mouth out with some complimentary mouthwash
by the sink, for which I’m thankful. My mouth tasted like a sewer. Fatigue
pushes my body onto the cool marble bathroom floor. It feels heavenly on my
fevered skin. Now I remember bitterly why I don’t drink. Stupid lesson learned
—again
.

As I lay on
this bathroom floor, I can’t help but think about my sister and the reason
behind this nightmare I have just endured. She performed her own disappearing
act after the darkness of Evan Grey. Julia withered away at such a fast rate
that the rumor around town was she was sick with some type of cancer. My mother
did nothing to dispel the rumors either. She stayed so mad during this time in
our lives. It was the first time my sister had caused any disturbance to our
family, and it rubbed my mother wrong something fierce. Jean dared my father to
do anything about it, saying she was just being rebellious and would eat when
she got good and hungry. But I knew better. My sister did not intend to eat
ever again. She had made her mind up while lying up in that room and I knew
nothing was going to change it. I took matters into my own hands.

There was
only one option, and that was to call Jean’s estranged parents. They had
spoiled her up until the grandbabies were born, when they realized the error of
their ways. That spoiled brat couldn’t see past herself to care for her own.
They encouraged my mother to be a better parent, and this earned them the boot
out of our lives. I had not seen them in well over six years by the time I made
that fateful phone call. Jean scheduled a spa appointment for an entire day’s
pampering that early spring day, saying all of the stress of Julia’s mess had
earned her the treat. Scared out of my mind, I arranged for my grandparents to
sneak Julia away. At that point, she was nothing more than bones and dried,
gray flesh. Her hair had thinned considerably too, and I had to fight the
overwhelming urge to be scared of the thing that my sister had become.

I remember
them entering Julia’s room and my grandmother going to her knees at the first
sight of my sister. It was a memory filled with pity and absolute shame. She
finally picked herself up off the floor to make her way onto the bed. She lay
there holding my sister, crying, while I helped my grandfather pack a suitcase.
He spoke very few words, and I knew he was in shock at the sight of Julia also.
My grandfather finally encouraged my grandmother to release Julia so he could
gather her skeleton in his arms and carry her to their van. They both gave me a
sympathetic look as they drove away, leaving me on the curb with the weight of what
I had just done crashing down on me.

By the time
Jean entered the house that late afternoon, I had Julia’s bed stripped down and
the room aired out of the stench left behind. The bedding ended up in the
outside garbage. The soiled material was past the point of no return.

I was lying
on the rope rug in my room, listening to the stereo, when Jean stormed in,
yanking me up off that floor quicker than I had time to comprehend. Fury was
radiating off her, and it scared me.

“Where’s
your sister? I know she didn’t walk out that door on her own,” she shouted as
she shook me.

I was
beyond upset, and the fact that Jean openly knew that my sister was too sick to
walk out on her own devastated me. Yet she did nothing about it. She was more
worried about keeping up her image in front of the town than to take care of
her sick daughter. I hated her in a way I wished wasn’t possible in that
moment. It felt purely evil, and I had thoughts about my mother that I’m too
ashamed to admit.