Sins of the Flesh (Exposed Series Book 1) (16 page)

“Listen to me carefully, Kate.”

I watched the vein in her temple and tried not to breathe on her.
Which was difficult because she was completely in my face.

“If you weren’t so high, I’d kick you out of this house right
now. Do you understand?”

I did not incriminate myself further by nodding.

“If you are using drugs, you are not welcome to live here
anymore.”

Her finger was so close to my face I had to cross my eyes to
look at it.

“If you want to throw your life away…” Her voice was shaking so
bad I thought she might put her hands around my neck. “I can’t stop you.” She shook
her head. “But I am not going to let you poison your little brother. I am not
going to make him live with a user.”

I felt outside myself. A
user
? She was completely
misreading the situation.

“Do we have an understanding?”

I nodded.

“Go to your room,” she said, moving so I could walk past her.

I closed my door loud enough that she would hear it downstairs.
Then I opened it quietly and tiptoed to the top of the landing. I knew she
would call my Dad right away, and I wanted to hear as much of the conversation
as possible.

By the time my Dad picked up, the anger in her voice had
intensified even further. She could be so dramatic. I’d gotten high, not joined
a gang for crying out loud.

“Fred?”

I knew my Dad was anti-drugs, but he was also less reactionary
than she was. Maybe he would talk some sense into her so she didn’t do anything
irrational.

“No, everything is not okay. Kate came home-
drove
home-
and she’s as high as a kite… Of course, I’m sure. Dawn used to look exactly
like that… Please. She tried to pretend it was pink eye…Yeah… Yeah… I’m
positive. I could smell it… I don’t care."

I couldn’t breathe. She’d never sounded so disgusted.

"What about Chris?… Uh-huh… Uh-huh… Well I can’t do it
anymore… I've tried, honey. You know how hard I've tried, and I can’t control
her… No… I know…"

I wish I knew what my Dad was saying, but the best I could do
was hang on my Mom's every word.

"This is the last straw for me… I agree. I don't think we
have a choice anymore. Nothing else has worked… The important thing is that she
gets her diploma… We’ll find the money… She could start second semester
there…"

What? Find the money? Start second semester where?

"I know it’s not ideal, but we have to do what’s best for
everyone… She’s putting other people at risk, though, not just herself… Of
course, I see what you're saying… But someday she would understand… Okay… Okay…
See you soon… Drive safe, honey. The rain is really coming down now… Love you,
too.”

I crept back to my room, closed door, and stood with my back
against it. I knew I had blown it this time. My Dad couldn’t stand up for me
now that drugs were involved. Speaking of which, I pulled the tiny bag of weed
out of my bra and stuffed it in my pocket.

A flash of lightning lit up my room and a few seconds later the
house shook with thunder.

I wasn’t a bad kid. I wasn’t
that
wild. But I was being
selfish. It was selfish of me to fuck up my family’s life. Everything I did
made them uncomfortable: the drinking and the eating disorder and now the pot
on top of it.

Not only did they think I was crazy, they thought I was
dangerous
.
No wonder they wanted me out of the house. They were just waiting for me to
screw up big enough that they could justify sending me away.

And where to? Boarding school? Somewhere with corporal
punishment? Maybe they’d even found a place that specialized in girls with
eating disorders. Like one of those places where everyone is sick and you aren’t
allowed to go to the bathroom by yourself.

I mean, even though my life felt like hell a lot of the time, at
least it was a hell I was familiar with. There was no fucking way I was going
to switch schools or get shipped off. No. Fucking. Way. I wasn’t Chris, sure,
but I wasn’t a maniac either. Just because my Mom couldn’t handle me didn’t
mean I needed to go to a special school. And in the middle of my senior year?!

I pulled an empty duffel bag from the back of my closet, put it
on the bed, and started filling it with my things. It wasn’t really a strategic
operation. I put my teddy in first along with a picture of me and Chris from
his eighth grade graduation. Then I grabbed two fistfuls of clean underwear, a
pair of jeans, and a few school uniforms. Finally, I scraped everything off the
bathroom countertop into a makeup bag, threw it in, and zipped the bag shut.

I looked out the window. The sky was black, and it was raining
so heavily it felt like my bedroom was going through a carwash. I wished I
could’ve waited for the storm to pass, but I had to leave before my Dad got
home. It was the only way I could buy myself the time I needed to think of
something, something that would change their mind.

I considered my options. I couldn’t go to my girlfriends’
houses. My Mom would call them first. Ian’s wasn’t really an option. He wasn’t
my boyfriend, and even if he was, I’d never be able to stay overnight there.
Same went for Kevin’s. He would want to help me at least, but he already had a
full house.

I didn’t need much, though. Just a room somewhere safe. Where my
parents wouldn’t find me right away.

And where I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone but myself.

Everything made me think about it. Everything.

Even seemingly unrelated things like watching my Pepperoni Hot
Pocket as it went around in circles. All of a sudden, I took a step back and
just stared at the glowing metal box and thought
oh my god, what if the
microwave had something to do with it
?

People were always going on about how microwaves and cell phones
could give you cancer. What if my getting sick was less about the incessant
smoking habit I picked up in my teens and more about my lifelong affair with
Easy Mac?

Could I really be sure that processed, powdered cheese was
totally faultless in this situation? Perhaps not. Then again, maybe some mysteries
weren’t meant to be solved. After all, while quitting smoking was an uphill
battle, quitting cheese would be impossible.

Of course, I know I shouldn’t have been eating Hot Pockets
anyway. I should’ve been piling my plate high with organic veggies, legumes,
and complex carbs. But all the dishes were clean. So it didn’t make sense to
cook.

I ate my soggy Hot Pocket on the couch and listened to the
storm. For once, I took my time and didn’t burn my mouth on the molten cheese.
Which was bittersweet. Because it was further proof that right when it didn’t
matter anymore, I was finally starting to grow up.

The storm was frighteningly loud, but I liked it. It took my
mind off Snarls being gone. I was glad that Courtney had agreed to take him. It
would be good for her mental health. Hopefully she would be attached to him
long before she realized I was never going to come back and get him.

It was awful saying good-bye. Though probably harder for me than
him. Cats are so resilient, far more resilient than people. I’ve never heard of
a cat feeling inadequate or making excuses for not reaching its potential.
Seems to me they’re happy as long as they can scratch, sleep, and sniff in
relative safety. They don’t fill their heads with impossible longings.

Then again, they get nine lives.

And here I was only getting half of one. Or three in cat years.

I threw my greasy paper plate in the garbage and checked my list
again.

I was completely packed. Except for my toiletries which I could
slip in just before I left. My small suitcase was sitting by the door. On the table
I’d laid out my passport, a sticky note with my flight confirmation number, and
an envelope with some cash in it. It was enough to cover the taxi to the
airport in the morning and a little extra. The travel agent told me they use
American money in Ecuador so I wouldn’t even have to find an atm right away.

I already had a booking at a hostel in Quito near a nice
restaurant called El Diablo Rojo where they play live jazz music. After that,
my plans were wide open.

I gave Tina my spare house keys last week. She said she would
check in on the place from time to time and would await further instructions.

I also made her cosigner on my bank account so she could cash my
money out if something happened. Or more accurately,
when
something
happened. It was nice to have a friend that wouldn’t flinch at my paltry
lifetime savings. If I died, I knew she would do with it what I’d asked.

Which reminded me.

I went to the ceramic rooster on top of the fridge and scooted
the white envelope out from underneath it. The fat letter felt heavy in my
hands, probably because it contained the most important words I’d ever written
and never said.

It was already sealed because I was afraid if I read it again, I
might lose my nerve and not leave it. I turned it over in my hand and smoothed
my finger along the seal once more. Then I put it on the mantle under a picture
of me and Carol in the red wagon.  

A crack of lighting lit up the room and made me smile.  A severe
storm was such a drag in the concrete jungle. All it did was flood the streets
with dirty rainbow bubbles of tar and grease. But in the rainforests of South
America, it would probably be invigorating. A storm would give life to a whole
host of plants that would do wonderful things for my lungs. Which was good. They
would need all the help they could get in the coming months.

I opened the window and sat on the window sill where I could
watch the light show. As the sound of the storm filled the room, I lifted a
cigarette to my lips.

I was about to light it when the buzzer rang. Then, just when I’d
convinced myself I imagined it, it buzzed again. 

I walked to the door of my apartment and pressed the intercom.
“Hello?”

“Aunt Dawn? It’s Kate.”

My chest tightened. I pressed the button to buzz her in and
opened the door.

I could hear wet footprints squeaking up the stairs. When I saw
her face peak around the corner, I felt my throat close up.

She was beautiful. When was the last time I’d seen her? Maybe
when she was fourteen or fifteen? I couldn’t remember. But she was a young
woman now, soaking wet with mascara streaming down her round cheeks.

Before I even said anything, she came up to me in the doorway
and hugged me like a wet towel.

“You’re freezing,” I said. “Come inside.”

I went straight to my room, stopping only to turn on the kettle.
I grabbed some warm sweats and a thick pair of chenille socks from my dresser
and brought them to her. Then I left the room so she could change out of her
wet clothes and went to make two cups of Earl Grey.

When I returned, she was already in the dry clothes and wrapped up
in the fleece blanket I kept draped over the back of the couch. I set the tea
cups down on some coasters.

“Thanks,” she said.

I noticed that her eyes looked puffy as if she’d been crying.

“Are you okay, Kate?”

She nodded.

As she reached forward to wrap her hands around her tea, I tried
to grab my cigarettes off the table without her noticing.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I know you smoke.”

I looked at her.

“My Mom… bitches about it.”

I tossed them back on the table. “How did you get so wet?” 

“I couldn’t remember which building you were in.” She looked
past me at my suitcase by the door. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Does your Mom know you’re here?” I asked, sitting gently on the
couch beside her.

She shook her head and made a face I recognized. It was a
forlorn face. I’d seen it a thousand times. Heck, I’d made it a thousand times.

“You know I have to tell her.”

She pursed her lips and blinked.

“But you can stay here,” I said, resting my hand on her
unfamiliar shoulder. “For as long as you like.”

She exhaled and her shoulders dropped two inches.

“Can I get you anything?”

She shook her head.

I stood and picked my phone up off the table. “I’m going to call
Carol and let her know you’re safe, okay?”

She nodded.

I scooped up her wet clothes with my free hand and dropped them
in the dryer on my way down the hall.

Carol picked up before the second ring. “Dawn?”

“She’s here, Carol,” I said. “She’s here, and she’s okay.”

The sigh of relief she let out was so long she must have been
storing up air for hours. “Fred and I will come get her right away.”

“Don’t,” I said. “I already told her she could stay, and nobody
should be driving in this.”