The Wrong Side Of The Tracks (Leighton) (5 page)

Alex started to roll slowly onto the floor, once she was off the bed she could get her boots quietly and get out without him noticing, it was getting off the mattress that was going to be tricky.  She inched towards to edge
then waited a few minutes to make sure he was still asleep before inching away a little more.  While she laid flat on her back she couldn't help but turn and steal a glance at him, he was laying on his side facing her with his hair in a pile around his head.  He looked sweet and peaceful, nothing like the way he acted when she met him in the woods. 

"Why are you staring at me?"

"Uhh, sorry.  I just, I didn't know this was your bed. I got to go... sorry," she stuttered as she felt around for her phone and prepared to dash out of the room.

He didn't move an inch or open his eyes, he just stretched his arm out and placed a heavy hand on her abdomen and mumbled, "Just go back to sleep."

Although her mind raced, there was something calm and soothing about the way he touched her.  To her own surprise she actually relaxed her body.  Did he realize she was the same girl from the woods?  No way had he realized, or else he wouldn't be so sweet to her now.   She might as well take advantage of his moment of sincerity because once daylight came and he sobered up and recognized her, it was going to end.

"What's your name?" she whispered.

"Karter."

She put her hand on her stomach, barely brushing his fingers with hers.  Her stomach did flip flops as he squeezed her hand
with his and laced long tan fingers between hers. 

Alex jumped up as if someone had dumped a gallon of cold water on her when she awoke and seen daylight peeping through the blinds.  She scrambled around on the mattress until she found her phone and turne
d the screen on.  Six forty-five in the morning.  If she literally ran home, her parents might still be in bed.  She would have time to jump in the shower and wash off the smell of rum, bonfire, and cigarette smoke before she had to face her parents.  Thank God Karter was a heavy sleeper; she felt like Cinderella trying to get out of his room before he realized who she really was.  As she crept through their living room door she felt a ping of guilt that she was leaving before saying good-bye to Kenzie, but she didn't want to wake her, she'd text her later.

AUNT SANDRA WAS A HIPPY

Donavon was in the back seat violently pressing the buttons on his
Nintendo DS.  Every beep felt like a knife was being jabbed into her brain, it took every ounce of Alex's being not to rip his game out of his hands and throw it out the window.  She had managed to avoid her parents, jump in the shower, Febreeze her dirty clothes, and crawl into bed for a whole half hour before Mrs. Raker came into her room and opened all the blinds and told her to get dressed to go to her Grandmother's house.  As they pulled into the long gated driveway Alex popped three Advil into her mouth and gagged when she dry-swallowed them.  Her mother raised her eyebrow at her suspiciously.

"I have cramps," Alex mumbled.

The car came to a stop, "Okay guys, I'm going to go to the club this afternoon.  Your father will pick you up around four.  Remember, your Grandma has missed you guys. You're here to spend time with her not be babysat by her.  Leave your game in the car Donavon."

They grumbled their goodbyes as they climbed out of the car unenthusiastically.  Their Grandm was on the front porch
waving wildly.  Davis Raker's mother was a sixty-two year old widow.  Everyone treated her as if she were a helpless ninety year old woman though, as if she couldn't take care of herself, no one even raised their voice around her so they didn’t startle her.  Alex's grandfather passed away when Alex was four, about ten years ago.  All the family and friends that knew her grandmother said that she has been heartbroken ever since, Alex knew that wasn't the case.  Her Grandma Raker had had that distant look in her eyes, for as long as she could remember, even before she lost her husband.  She was the only person Alex had ever known with a permanent sad face, even when she smiled the corners of her mouth drooped and her eyes didn't light up.  

Alex sat down at the table with her Grandma, Donavon had already went into the den and flopped onto the sofa wit
h the remote.

"Can I get you a coke?"

Alex gagged; she'd been burping up rum and coke all morning, "Just some water Gram."  Her Grandma joined her at the table with their drinks.

"Dad said you're go
ing to have a memorial for Aunt Sandra after the election."

Her Grandma nodded as she stared blankly out the window, "I'm
getting old Alex.  I need to finally let go of your Aunt and really bury her before you guys have to bury me."

Alex winced at her morbid words, "Grandma..."

Her Grandma flashed her sad smile, "You know what I mean sweetie.  I'm no spring chicken, and I've spent the last fifteen years mourning your Aunt Sandra.  This memorial is going be like a final send-off, and then I'm going to enjoy the last few years of my life."

"Well then let's make it a
mazing.  What were you thinking?  Like a dinner? Benefit? Ceremony?  You could raise money, like have an auction and donate the funds raised to an organization in honor of Aunt Sandra"

"That would be sweet.  But I have no idea what organization would be
appropriate."

"What about MADD?"

"I don't know what that is."

"It stands for Mothers
against Drunk Driving; they have dances at our school all the time."

"But Sandra wasn't drunk.  If we donate money to them in her name everyone will think she was drunk."

Alex studied her Grandma's face.  It was hard to tell if she was being sincere, or just in denial.  No mother wants to admit their child died because they were driving drunk.  Her Grandma seemed insulted though.

"Uhh sorry, I just assumed.  Never mind..." Al
ex let her voice trail off.

Her Grandma patted her
hand reassuringly, "It's okay, and we should talk about it.  That's why I haven't been able to let it go for the past fifteen years; nobody would talk about it with me."

Alex knew she shouldn't pry, but at
the same time she was intrigued.  Without thinking she blurted out, "Then why'd she crash?"

"The Dr. said there wasn't any alcohol in her bloodstream.  I wish I knew what happened.  I sat at her grave for hours, waiting for something, a sign or a clue.  I
have no idea what happened the night she left us.  I didn't even know she could drive, we never taught her and she hadn't taken drivers' education yet.  I don't even know how she got the car out of the garage without us hearing her."

Alex
listened intently.  This was the most information she had ever been told about Sandra's death.  All her and Donavon knew was their father had a little sister who died in a car accident when he was in high-school, and Alex was named after her.  Occasionally their dad would mention something about when he and Sandra were little, but no one ever spoke about the years leading up to the accident.  Alex could tell from the photos that she wasn't a typical Leighton Prep girl, and from comments she had picked up from her parents she was a little on the wild side.

"When the police knocked on the door that night and gave us the news I didn't believe them.  I told them that was impossible my daughter couldn't drive.  He just hushed me and told me there were a lot of things I didn't k
now about my daughter, and that she was a teenager so her whole life revolved around secrets.  I would give anything to know what happened to my little girl that night.  But, I guess it's time to let it go and accept the fact that I'm not going to know."

A
lump had formed in Alex's throat.  Her heart hurt for her Grandma.  How could everyone in her family dismiss her feelings about Sandra's accident and act like it never happened?  All she wanted was somebody to talk about it with her, to acknowledge it happened. 

Alex tried to lighten the mood, "I didn't know Aunt Sandra but I've heard she loved a good party.  Let's go all out Gram.  We can invite all her friends and family, hire a caterer, and a band
, and people could give speeches about her."

Her Grandma
's face lit up, the least sad smile Alex had ever seen from her in a long time.  "She would love that Alex!  We can have one of those things on the big screens with her pictures too."

Alex chuckled, "You mean a slideshow?"

"Yes!  Why don't you run upstairs and get the box of her old photographs and we can pick some out for the slideshow thingy?"

Alex had only been upstairs of her Grandmother's house a few times when she was younger.  Once, to sleep in the guest bedroom when her parents went out of town, and
then a few times she snuck up there just to be nosey since she was told she wasn't allowed upstairs.  She turned the cold, hard knob and pushed Sandra's bedroom door ajar.  She tiptoed in and surveyed the stack of boxes.  She didn't know why she was sneaking around; her Grandma gave her permission to go into her bedroom.  It was just so quiet she didn't want to disturb the stillness.  Her Aunt's room was small and quaint, all that was in it was a full size bed, dresser, and two nightstands, and each item was covered in about an inch of dust.  After Sandra's death her Grandma went in and boxed up all her possessions, stacked the boxes in one corner, and never touched them again.  Alex picked up a small deteriorating box with 'pictures' scrawled across the top, the bottom was caving in and a small piece of folded yellowed paper fell out the bottom.

"Did you find it?" her Grandma called up the stairs.

"Uh, yeah.  I'll be right down!"  Alex pocketed the piece of paper and she clutched the small dusty box and headed down the stairs, pulling the bedroom door shut behind her.

Donovan walked into the kitchen where they were sitting at the table fanning out Sandra's photographs.  He shuffled to the refrigerator and grabbed a Coke, then stopped at the table.  He picked
up one of the Polaroids and snickered, "Aunt Sandra was a hippy."  Alex shot daggers at him with her eyes, their Grandma's denial kicked in and she pretended not to hear him busying herself with more photos.  Donavon shrugged and tossed the photo back on the table and retreated to the den.

Alessandra Raker stared back at them with her clear husky blue eyes framed with wavy black
hair; she could have been Alex's twin.  Alex had never seen candid photos of her Aunt, just stuffy washed out of pictures of her Aunt in her Leighton Prep blazer, or posing with the tennis team.  There was one picture of her hanging in her parent's hallway next to her father, but they were little kids, her father wearing a suit and tie and her Aunt in a satin red dress in front of a Rockefeller size Christmas tree.

Alex picked up the
Polaroid Donavon had tossed carelessly back on the table.  Her stomach did a flip-flop as she stared at it; it was like looking at a still-frame from yesterday.  She was truly experiencing deja-vu.  Alessandra stared back at her, smiling brightly, her long dark-hair seeping out of an old dingy trucking hat.  She was hugging a tan girl with long locks of tight curly brown hair, holding her two fingers up in a peace sign flashing her silver and jade rings.  The picture was taken in the dark, but she could make out some trees in the distance, a bonfire with a few figures standing around it, and water.  They were at Lost Creek; her Aunt Sandra was at Lost Creek.  Maybe they had more in common than Alex had thought.

It was taken by one of those old cameras that spit the photo out right after it was taken.  She remembered seeing someone on
television shaking a picture waiting for it to develop.  On the bottom white portion of the photo it said, "Family First," in bubbly teen-age girl handwriting.  She had no idea who the girl was, and she definitely wasn't a member of their family. 

"That photo was taken right before her accident," her Grandmother murmured gesturing at the picture in Alex's hand.  Alex looked a
t her curiously.

"The summer before of her accident she started wearing that nasty hat.  Her father hated it, wouldn't let her leave the house if she had it on.  But she loved that hat, I have no idea where it came from but she wouldn't part with it."

The hat was sitting on her head crooked, obviously two sizes too big for her petite head.  It was white with a red brim; even in the poor quality of the photo you could see the stains and streaks on the front.  Alex squinted to make out the logo, 'Leighton Motor Garage.'  She recognized the logo, there was an old abandoned junkyard on the outside of town with a sign out-front surrounded by rusty old cars missing their doors and hoods.  The sign was creepy and reminded her of motel signs on scary movies that said 'No Vacancy,' when they drove past last week it was missing half the letters so it said 'LEIGHTN OTOR GAGE."