Sinful Suspense Box Set (45 page)

Chapter 8

One time, when
I was seven, I’d had a terrible toothache, and my mom had to drag me to the dentist’s office kicking and screaming. I didn’t want anyone poking and prodding a tooth that already hurt like hell. As I walked down the hall to the group meeting room, I wished I was seven again. Being taken to the dentist was still more inviting than going to group.

After the game, Sugar hadn’t talked to me for the rest of the day. This morning, I’d sat alone in a corner, like the most unpopular kid in school, picking at my breakfast. Sugar had chatted and laughed with the other members of our team, reminiscing about yesterday’s game as if it had been even the slightest bit entertaining. All my life, I’d been a pro at doing asshole stuff, but in all that time, I’d never learned how to undo the shit. ‘People don’t forget, Thomas’, my mom had constantly reminded me. She was the only person I let call me Thomas. I figured she’d picked the name, she might as well be able to use it. Of course, she probably had little choice. Thomas was what everyone called my father. But she called him Honey. I guess that’s why I didn’t mind it so much when she called me Thomas. She was right too. People didn’t forget. It seemed I always remembered the shitty stuff my dad said a lot more than the good stuff. But then the good stuff was always backhanded, like the compliment about my football abilities, the
one
good thing.

I walked into the meeting room. Sugar was talking to Jayleen, and Harold was on the other side of her. There were no empty chairs near her. To make things worse, there was no pink box on the table and I had to sit next to Pete. Sugar didn’t make eye contact with me and kept up her conversation with Jayleen. Not completely sure what they could possibly have in common other than being in this place.

Dr. Kirkendall walked in with her colorful clipboard and shimmering ear. She flashed me a smile and sat down. She had a picture book under her arm, and I wondered if she was going to read to us to make up for those of us whose parents didn’t tell bedtime stories. My older sister, Katherine, had occasionally sat in my room to read me a story, but I wasn’t a great listener unless she was reading me a scary book. As far as I was concerned, those were the only cool stories, even though some of them gave me nightmares. Still better than knights and princesses and wizards, at least in my eight year old opinion. Nowadays, a fairy tale happy ending didn’t seem so boring after all.

“Afternoon, everyone. So glad you all came to group today.” Another wink my way. I was piling up the fucking brownie points. “Hope you don’t mind but I forgot the notepads. I think we can do a group without them.” She lifted up the book she’d carried in. “How many of you have read or heard of this book?” I recognized the book. It was about a kid who had some really sucky day, and the whole book told about it. Everyone raised their hands like little kids responding to the teacher. I held back a laugh. “Tommy? Have you? If everyone has heard the book then I don’t need to take the time to read it.”

My hand shot up. “I’ve heard it.”

She smiled again, but this time it was more out of annoyance. She slipped the book under her clipboard. “Great, since we all know about Alexander’s very bad, terrible day, I thought we’d tell some of our own stories about a particularly bad day in our life. Is there something someone would like to share with group? No judgment, of course.”

I cleared my throat. “Seems like I’ve heard that promise somewhere before.”

“You’re right, Tommy. In the last session, I broke one of my biggest rules, and I will not do it again. Doctor’s honor.”

Mandy raised her hand. The girl did love center stage, a place that I planned to stay off of today. While Mandy began her terrible day story, I slipped a glance over at Sugar. Her long lashes shaded her cheeks as she stared down at the ground. I couldn’t tell if she was just making sure to avoid me or if she was deep in thought. Her bottom lip pushed out slightly, a clue that she was thinking about something and it wasn’t a happy something. I’d memorized so many of her facial expressions, I had them catalogued in my brain. This was sadness.

To the side of me, I could hear Mandy whining about losing out on a movie part to an actress who was clearly too fat for the part. She was definitely one of those weight obsessed people. She finished her little story, or at least I thought she had. I wasn’t listening because I kept looking across the group at Sugar. Something was going on with her.

Mandy finished and sat back, pleased with her little tale of horror. Dr. Kirkendall glanced around the group. It seemed no one was too keen on this idea. “Anyone else have a story about a bad day?”

“I have one.” Sugar’s voice sounded so lost, so different, I hadn’t even realized it was her at first.

Dr. Kirkendall seemed to finally notice what I, with my untrained eye, had already seen. Sugar raised her hand to push a strand of hair behind her ear. That was when I saw that her fingers were trembling. I looked over at Kirkendall. I wanted her to move on to the next person. It was making my own stomach knot up, seeing Sugar like this, shaky, upset, not herself.

The rest of the group sat still as statues, waiting.

“If you would like to share, then please go ahead, Sugar,” Kirkendall prodded. She loved to prod. There must have been a fucking class in psych school that taught prodding because the woman was skilled at it.

Sugar’s throat moved as she swallowed. She still hadn’t looked at me, almost as if she couldn’t see me sitting there across from her, begging her silently not to do this. My asshole behavior had made me invisible. But I saw her, every flicker of sadness in her blue eyes, every nervous bite of her lip. I saw it all.

“When I was seven,” she paused, “I had a terrible day.”

A laugh nearly burst from my mouth. She was bullshitting. She was doing this because of our argument yesterday. She was going to make some dramatic bunch of garbage up to get back at me. Then despair filled her expression, a flood of emotion that knocked the breath from me.

“If you’d like to wait, Sugar, and talk to me about this in our private session—”

Sugar shook her head. “No, I’m all right.” Her thin shoulders lifted and fell as she took a deep breath. “It was a Saturday. My neighbor Kate and I were best friends. We hung out a lot. I had a little plastic playhouse in the backyard. She’d brought her little sister, Megan, with her. We were going to have a tea party in the playhouse.” Her lashes dropped down again. “Megan was four. She was this little three foot bundle of giggles.” She paused, and the room was silent. Even the walls were listening. “She loved this one doll of mine so much, sometimes she would take it home to babysit. Then Megan would bring her back and tell me all the naughty things my doll had done while she was watching her.” A small laugh fell from her soft, sad lips. “We’d gone into the playhouse for the tea party. As I picked up the teapot, a spider crawled out.” She smiled weakly. “Of course, we ran back out. The tea party was cancelled. So we started playing out on the grass.” Sugar’s blue eyes flickered my direction for a second. The only sound in the room was the occasional clicking of Jayleen biting her nails.

For a long moment, it seemed that Sugar was transported back to that Saturday with her friends and the spider and the cancelled tea party. She looked down at her hands. “I had this toy, a pretend lawnmower. It would make a popping sound when you rolled it across the ground. It was one of those toys that you get when you’re a toddler, but that you don’t have the heart to throw away. My grandmother had given it to me, although I had been too little to remember. It was made of wood. ‘The sturdiest toys are made of wood and they last forever’ my grandmother had said one day when she saw me playing with it.” Her voice wavered, and that glow that always swirled around her, that glow that maybe only I could see but it was there. It was always there. But it had dimmed now. Her shoulders looked smaller as she shrank down some in the chair. I wanted to walk over, pull her into my arms and take her out of this stupid room.

“Sugar, are you doing all right?” Kirkendall asked.

Sugar nodded. She drifted off into her own thoughts before continuing. “I was always spinning, or twirling or somersaulting. My mom used to tell me I made her tired just watching me. Kate was on my swing and Megan,” a sob slipped out as she said the little girl’s name.

I was sitting there with a group of people watching her tell the story, but it was as if no one else was in the room but us, as if someone had put a frame around Sugar, blocking out everything else. All I could see was Sugar, the girl who made me dizzy without even spinning, sitting there pouring her heart out.

“I’m not even sure why I did it. I picked up the mower and started twirling around and around. The faster I went, the heavier the toy felt at the end of my fingers.” A tear spilled down Sugar’s cheek. I clenched every muscle in my body to stop the ache I was feeling. It was as if I was feeling everything she’d felt on that horrible day. Kirkendall glanced my direction and then wrote something down. I had no idea why the hell she would focus on me when Sugar’s heart was breaking right in front of her. In front of me. 

“Centrifugal force,” Sugar said suddenly. “That’s how Julian explained it to me.”

“You relayed this story to Julian?” Kirkendall asked.

Sugar nodded. “We were playing chess one night when neither of us could sleep. And I told him. Julian doesn’t always talk, but he’s a really good listener.”

“I agree,” Kirkendall said.

She’d told Julian but not me. I was pissed for a fleeting second but then remembered that I, too, talked to Julian when I was upset and needed a good pair of ears.

“Centrifugal force caused the toy to slip from my little fingers. I laughed when it flew across the yard. Then I dropped down, completely dizzy and not sure which way was up. As I regained my bearings—” The soft, shuddering breath she took made my chest fill with hot lead. “I heard Kate crying. She was knelt down next to Megan. She’s asleep,” I told myself. “She’s asleep or pretending. Silly, little, bubbly Megan was tricking us. I got up and walked over to Kate. The mower, the sturdy wood toy, was next to Megan’s little body. There was just a tiny smear of blood on the side of her head. ‘Why is she bleeding?’ I asked Kate. Kate screamed and ran from the yard to get her mom. I tapped Megan’s shoulder, but she didn’t wake up. Little kids aren’t allowed to die I told myself over and over again. I was sure there was no such thing as death for little kids. She was just sleeping.” Jayleen and Mandy had tears running down their faces, and Dr. Kirkendall looked pale.

Sugar was shaking now, and I felt stiff in my chair as if nothing could pry me off the fucking seat.

“My mom— she grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard and told me I was too damn wild, that I was always spinning and never thinking. The ambulance sirens drowned her out after awhile, and I floated away from the scene. My body was still there but my mind had gone back into the playhouse where Kate and Megan and I were serving tea to my dolls.”

Kirkendall passed around the box of tissue she kept under the chair. She took one for herself. I sat as if someone had filled my legs and arms with cement. Sugar sat back to signal that she was done. No real way to follow that terrible day scenario. Sugar’s gaze once again flitted my direction. Then she pulled it away. 

Kirkendall ended the group early and stayed in the room with Sugar while we all walked out. I headed straight outside, lighting my cigarette long before I was out of sight of the front desk. Nurse Greene could chase me down on her size three shoes, and try and pull it from my mouth. I didn’t give a fuck.

I leaned against the trunk of the mulberry tree and smoked my cigarette. I hadn’t taken the time to walk out to the bars, and it would only be a few minutes before someone poked their head outside to tell me to put it out. That was all right. I only needed a few puffs to take some of the edge off.

I squeezed it between my thumb and forefinger like I was pressing a joint to my lips. More than any of the other stuff I’d ingested or smoked or drank, I missed the weed. Not in an addictive way either, just in a comfort from an old friend sort of way. It sure as hell would have been nice to have some now. After that.

Three small birds dropped onto the edge of the fountain. They twittered beneath the cool spray of water, enjoying a break from the heat. I thought about what Julian had said, about the birds in the fountain. It had been obvious, I suppose. I’d never tried to hide the fact that I loved her, not to anyone . . . but Sugar. I’d always been on guard with her. Figured I was already twisted up enough inside, the last thing I needed was someone like Sugar to twist me up more. She wasn’t someone you could just hang out with, have a good time with, maybe fuck and then move on. She was someone who would become part of your soul. Someone who would work her way into your heart and never leave. No matter what came in between, she would always be there.

“Tommy—” Nurse Greene stuck her head out the door. “Extinguish the cigarette, please.”

I closed my eyes and took one last hit of tobacco before heading back inside. The cool air of the building felt good as I headed around the corner to go back to my room. It seemed like the best place to be. I didn’t even feel like talking to Julian. I just wanted to stretch out on my bed and close my eyes.

Sugar stepped out of Kirkendall’s office as I passed it. Her tiny button of a nose was pink from crying, and the tears had made her eyes even bluer. She looked at me. Her bottom lip still trembled the slightest bit, and she hadn’t regained her usual radiant, confident composure.

I took hold of her hand and she let me. I pulled her around the corner to the small, deserted hallway that led to the maintenance room. I pulled her into my arms, and once again, she let me.

“Tommy,” she whispered. The sound of it went straight through my chest.

We were locked in each other’s arms, and it was how I’d expected it to be, intense, hardcore, as if every thread between us became connected and complete. But then she pulled back. I reached my hand up to her face. She pressed her cheek against my palm for a second before shaking her head to push it away.

“No, Tommy, no sympathy. I didn’t do that in there, I didn’t just spill my guts out for some sympathy.” She swallowed hard. Her lip trembled again. “I did it to knock that fucking chip off your shoulder.” She walked away.