Authors: Valia Lind
"It's in the past," I state when I finally find my voice. But is it? I don't want to think about it. I'm done reliving the parts of my childhood that I want to forget. Because now, today, Grayson is not the boy from my nightmares.
“Please tell me what’s bothering you?”
For a second, I contemplate keeping quiet. Would saying anything actually change what I’m feeling? Or make me feel better? I’ve come to the conclusion that I can handle him, I can handle whatever he throws my way. Is this another attempt at playing with my emotions? Well, I guess now is as good time as any to find out. Squaring my shoulders, I face him head on.
“Why did you tell Tamela you were meeting family? Don’t want it known we’re working together?” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but it’s there. He hears it loud and clear.
“I did have a family obligation. I just came from seeing my father.” Well, now I feel like an idiot. “You thought—”
“It doesn’t matter what I thought!” I almost shout, before taking a deep calming breath. The fact that he didn’t lie to Tamela shouldn’t make me this happy, but it does. “We need to get back to work.”
"We will, but you need to know that I—" he doesn't get to finish because my aunt walks into the room, muttering to herself and we jump apart as if burned.
"I'm leaving now," she says glancing up at us briefly. "Make sure you lock up." She grabs her stuff, and I follow her out to the front of the store, locking the door behind her. I take a moment to lean against the glass to calm my racing heart. I know I have to go back in there but I'm afraid. I don't trust myself with him.
I can't hide out here forever, but I know that when I go back I'll have to act like everything is fine. I can't let him see how his words, or his presence, affects me. I have to stay in control. My future depends on it.
This project, everything about it, is what I've been working toward since I can remember. I can't let my personal feelings get in the way of us working together. I have to act like a grown up. Okay, I take that back, maybe just like a more mature version of myself. I can do that.
It's only Grayson, right?
NINETEEN
Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.
- George Burns
I'm actually quite proud of myself.
I go back in there, focused and ready for work and that is exactly what Grayson and I do. Work. Surprisingly, he’s pretty handy with cutting patterns. I can tell he wants to talk but maybe he see it in my eyes that I don’t. Talking wastes too much energy and we need to concentrate. I don’t even notice what time it is until my phone rings for the third time. I finally find it under a bunch of layers of cloth, and groan at the name.
"Hi, Dad," I say. I catch Grayson's eye as he glances up at my tone and try for a reassuring smile.
"You planning on coming home tonight?" I can hear Mom in the background humming and the sound of dishes being put away. I missed dinner, which means he's not happy.
"Yes, sorry, I got caught up at work."
"The store closed two and half hours ago, Brooklynn."
"Yes, but I had some inventory to go over. I'll be home soon." I hang up, knowing I'll be hearing about this the moment I walk through the front door. I send a quick text to Dakota, letting her know I'm ready, sighing a little.
"I have to go," I announce stashing my phone in the pocket of my jeans.
"Everything okay?"
"Yes." He knows it's not but he doesn't comment, just follows me out of the room as I turn the lights off behind us. As we make it out of the back of the store, I stop by the counter, grabbing my bag. I click the light off, pitching the room into darkness, then hear a loud thud.
"Ouch," Grayson grumbles.
"Sorry." I can't help but giggle. I forgot to tell him that the light switch is at the back of the store for some reason. Usually, he leaves before me so this is never a problem. I can barely make him out through the darkness, the new curtains on the window blocking the light from whatever street lamps are on. All the racks and shelves make for bit of an obstacle course, adding another layer of shadows to the room.
"I'm just going to stand here then," Grayson says his voice sending goosebumps up my arms. I giggle again, unable to stop myself. I can hear the smile on his lips. I move around him, heading for the door, my movements sure with months of walking these floors. "You're just going to leave me here?" he calls when he hears me moving.
"Maybe." I laugh a little at the small noise of panic he makes. "Oh fine," I groan when he continues to whimper. I make my way back to him. When I'm just two feet in front of him, I can make out his shape.
"Come on, follow close." I turn to lead the way when I feel his hand on mine. I freeze as his fingers move over my own, carefully, as if seeking permission. When I don't pull away, he takes that as all the invitation he needs, letting his hand wrap tightly around mine.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but he speaks first.
"This way I don't get lost." I nod a little, even though he probably can't see me, because it's the only thing I can do. I make my body move, mentally keeping a mantra going in my head don't trip, don't trip, don't trip. I can feel his body close behind me, his hand wrapped tightly around mine.
"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" I ask, trying to keep it light. I'm sure he can feel my heartbeat through my fingertips, the stupid thing sounds like a Linkin' Park drummer. When he makes a small noise in the back of his throat, my eyes fight to focus on him. "You are!"
"Not afraid. Just uncomfortable."
"Right, don't worry. I'll protect you from the monsters." I feel his hand shudder in mine a little and I give it a tiny squeeze in reassurance. The next moment, we're at the front of the store and I'm almost sad to release Grayson in order to lock up. He stands, close behind me as I fumble with the lock. My skin still feels the imprint of his palm against mine and I fight the urge to place it over my heart.
"You'll be okay to head home? Do you want a ride?" As soon as he asks I see familiar headlights pull up behind him.
"I'm good. Dakota is here." The girl in questions is staring at us through the windshield as if we're lab rats. Noticing our attention is on her, she gives us a little wave. Grayson returns the gesture, then turns back to me. His gaze is intense, saying things he's not ready to utter, words I'm not ready to hear. I feel his fingers graze my own for a second before he speaks.
"Good night," he says.
He doesn't wait for a response, but throws another wave in Dakota's direction, heading for his car. I stand there for a moment watching him go, before skipping over to Dakota's car.
"Well that was interesting," she says as soon as I'm buckled in. She pulls out into traffic, humming a little to herself.
"What?"
"Oh nothing, just you know, the whole eating each other with your eyes. I'm surprised he didn't just rip—"
"Okay," I almost shout bringing up my hands. "Please stop. You know it's not like that."
"I'm just reporting on what I see."
"Please Dakota, I can't really think about this right now. Dad is freaking out and I'm stressing and..." I let out a loud exaggerated sigh. "I need to breathe."
"Yes, Brooklynn, that would be good." We don’t say anything else as we pull up in front of my house. It's only about a seven minute ride, if all the lights are green. "You want me to go in with you?"
"No, but thanks. I can handle it."
"Just think about Grayson and his delicious--"
"I'm going to have to wash your mind out with soap, and yes somehow I’ll make it work, if you don't knock it off," I say before shutting the door between us. I turn, a smile still on my face when I see Dad waiting for me at the front of the house.
"Hi Dad." He doesn't say anything, just nods. When the door shuts behind me, my heart drops. I know what's coming.
"Where were you really?"
"At the shop." I head for the kitchen to grab something to eat, hearing Dad's footsteps behind me. Mom is at the kitchen table, reading and I greet her with a kiss on the cheek.
"Every night for the past week. There is no way there's that much work in that place. Tell me where you were."
"Dad, I've been at the store. Ask Aunt Evie." That seems to settle him for a second as I reach for the leftovers. I know it's not going to last very long, we haven't had our 'college discussion' in all of four days.
"Have you filled out the applications I put in your room?" And here we go.
"Yes."
"Did you mail them?"
"Not yet."
"Brooklynn, you know you can't wait much longer. The deadlines are right around the corner. I’m sure you’ve missed a few already. If you don't get your head out of the clouds and get a real plan for your future you'll be thirty-five and working in that dust collecting junk store, still living at home."
"Is there something wrong with working for Aunt Evie?" I ask, turning to face my father. His hands are on his hips, his body screaming of frustration. But I am my daddy's daughter, two can play that game. I cross my hands, whatever appetite I might've had gone.
"No, there's nothing wrong with working for her while you're in high school, but can you honestly tell me you'll be content there for the rest of your life? That's not how one makes a living."
"She doesn't seem to have a problem."
"You're not her." I put the food I took out on a plate, hoping this conversation will be over soon so I can regain some desire to eat. Skipping meals is not exactly good for the metabolism. I pile some on my plate before sticking it in the microwave.
"What's so wrong with being her, Dad? She's Mom's sister. Are you going to tell me you don't approve of her now?" I try to keep my voice leveled. I glance at Mom, hoping for some kind of a reaction out of her, but she just shrugs her shoulders.
"It works for her, honey. You deserve better." is the only thing she says and I try not to let the disappointment choke me from inside out. I don't know why I keep hoping she’ll take my side. She's seen how her sister struggled and doesn't want that for me. I turn to my dad, who's not even close to being done.
"All I'm saying," he states bringing his hands up in a soothing motion, "is that she went to an art school and look where it landed her. She's barely making enough to stay afloat. I don't want you to suffer the same consequences. You need a plan."
"I have a plan, Dad." I say, even though I know it's hopeless. He doesn't really consider anything I say a plausible option.
"What, your sketches?" I glance up sharply, my eyes fastened on his.
"You've seen my sketches?"
"Of course I have. And don't tell me that's anything of a future. The fashion world is full of competition. You need a good, solid job, not your head stuck in the clouds."
"You keep saying that, Dad, as if it's such a bad thing!" I shout, all pretense of self-control gone. "Those sketches are my life. It's who I am, it's how I see the world, and I believe I'm meant to share that."
"Sure, in your spare time. It's not a logical career choice."
"For whom Dad, for you or for me? How much of this is about you? God forbid your friends find out your daughter is a dreamer. It will seriously tarnish your good reputation." I slam the microwave door closed after taking out my now steaming plate of mashed potatoes and beef stroganoff.
"You have no right to speak to me like that. I am your father."
"You're right. But you have no right to treat me like dirt because I am willing to take the chances you never did as a teenager. I know there were things you wanted to do. I remember the stories you told me back before I was the black sheep of the family. I'm going to fight for my dreams, Dad, even if you didn't."
I grab the plate and my bag, heading for the stairs. I pass Mom who hasn't said a word, but I notice the look in her eyes and I wish I didn't. It's the same one Dad is wearing, half pity and half disappointment.
"Those are pretty words. That's not a plan, Brooklynn. You don't know how to plan your future. You're nothing but a kid."
I'm halfway up the stairs, but I turn at that.
"I do have a plan," I begin, coming back down the stairs to stand right above my father. The tears start up and I have no power stopping them now. "And maybe I am only a kid, I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, or in five years, but I do know that no matter what, I will not feel like someone who gave up. If I fail, I will fail after I've tried my best. And I will live with that if the time comes. But at least I will be able to say I tried."
When I reach my room, I shut the door behind me, leaning against it as sobs overtake my body. For a second, I can't breathe, the solid hurt of my parent's disappointment crushing any air from my lungs. I sink to the floor, hugging the knees to my chest. Closing my eyes, I send a prayer for strength, trying to find that inner peace. I lean my head against the door, wishing I could talk to Paige about this. But I can't, because she hasn't truly talked to me in years. I know what she would say right now anyway. She'd take Dad's side because she long ago stopped taking mine.