Forever Changed (2 page)

I would give anything to go back to the day that changed everything. Now, my life was filled with
If onlys
…
If only
I hadn’t picked a fight over my car…
If only
I hadn’t acted slow and sullen to make a point….
If only
I had picked any other day to be a whiny bitch, everything would be different. We would have been on time and the crazy asshole behind my dad and Megan would have picked another car to take out his road rage on!

“
This was my fault,”
I thought bleakly as I scanned the attendees, searching for a break in the crowd. My eyes settled on a lone figure leaning against a tree twenty feet from where I sat. Our eyes locked and bile rose in my throat.

This may be my fault, but it was equally his.

I shouldn’t have come
, I thought. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. Something just pulled me to the funeral. This should be their time, I know I don’t belong. The family would probably freak if they noticed me and yet, here I am, like an idiot.

I scanned the perimeter, passing over the bowed heads and shaking shoulders of the mourners, searching for my whole reason for being here. Finally, after a moment, my eyes settled on her and my palms began to sweat. Even shrouded in her grief, she looked heartbreakingly beautiful.

A week ago she wasn’t even on my radar. There was a definite pecking order at our school, and our crowds just never mixed. I would have never given her a second thought until my father had irreversibly changed all of our lives.

I remember sitting on the couch with my aunt watching the news coverage as Kassandra led her distraught mother and pale younger sister from the hospital. My dad’s road rage had made us national news. The media happily gobbled up the heartbreaking tale of how one man treacherously ran an innocent driver off the road in a drunken rage. My eyes zeroed in on Kassandra. I took in her every feature as she bravely stepped between her family and the reporters, all demanding to know how they felt about what my father had done. She ignored their shouting, refusing to take part in the frenzy. The pain on her face was all too real, even through the TV.

Now, here I was, watching from a distance like some kind of stalker as she gripped her younger sister’s hand. My whole intention was to stay out of site, which backfired when her eyes met mine. I felt like I had been sucker punched in the gut. Her hatred was unmistakable.

This was my fault.

That son of a bitch, how dare he show up!
I tore my gaze from his and stared blankly at my aunt as she finished up her eulogy. By the intense sobbing around me, it was clear her words had impacted everyone. The minister finished the procession shortly after and my mom’s whole body shook as we filed past my father’s casket to say our final goodbyes. I put my arm around her with my own tears falling hot and fast as the finality of the moment settled in. As much as I had yearned for this to be over, I felt panicked at the thought of leaving my father behind.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, as family and friends filed through the house paying their last respects. My mom escaped to her room the moment we entered the house and I watched her retreating back with envy. I wanted to escape. I yearned to be around my friends, laughing and joking and pretending all of this was just some nightmare, but I plastered a small painful smile on my face and endured every hug that came my way. The mood was somber, with everyone sitting around sharing stories about my father. My grandmother sat on the couch with very little to say, while my Aunts sat close by, lending her the comfort she needed. I’m sure this was all just everyone’s way of coping, but each story just made me miss him more. Finally, I just couldn’t take anymore and had to get out of there before I screamed.

I stumbled down the hallway, swiping tears from my cheeks as the sobs ripped painfully through my throat. Sinking onto my bed, I pulled my comforter over my head to leave the world behind. I heard my door open quietly and held my breath, hoping it was my mom. I missed her support and wanted my shift of being the adult to be over. My mattress dipped down slightly and I felt a small body squirm under the comforter with me. My heart broke as Megan snuggled her small body up to me, offering the only comfort she could. It felt like we were stranded on our own deserted island. I returned her comfort, pulling her tightly into my arms. In a way, we had lost both of our parents.

The days following my dad’s funeral tumbled along in a painful blur as we learned to cope with the new direction our lives were on. Three days after the funeral, my grandma and aunts boarded a plane to head back home. I was relieved to see them go, anxious to have our space back to ourselves. Hopefully, their departure would bring mom out of her shell. She’d never really gotten along well with my grandma over the years. The animosity stemmed from comments my grandma had made years ago about my father marrying beneath him. She was convinced my father would someday realize his mistake. What she’d always been too blind to see was just how in love my parents were.

Unfortunately, my hopes that mom would snap back to normal didn't materialize. She’d spend hours staring off into space with tears streaking down her cheeks. For the most part, she was as non-talkative as Megan, but would at least answer direct questions. By day five of being on our own, the silence began to wear on my nerves and the walls felt like they were caving in on me. I nearly wept with relief when my best friend Lacey called to ask if she could come over. I was desperate to have someone I could talk to that would sympathize with my pain.

Lacey and I headed up to my room as soon as she arrived. I closed my door and sank down on my bed ready to unload all my hurt.

“How are you doing?” she asked, giving me the opening I needed.

“Not good,” I said as tears filled my eyes. “My mom walks around the house like a zombie wearing my dad’s old t-shirts, and Megan still hasn’t said a word since the accident.”

“Ugh, that’s morbid,” Lacey said, shuddering.

“Well, I’m sure it’s normal,” I said, feeling the need to defend them even though I was just venting.

“Maybe your mom should get like some Valium or something.”

“She doesn’t need medication,” I said sharply, offended by her condescending tone.

“I’m just saying, when my uncle died last year, my aunt got some medication so she wouldn’t be all like doom and gloom or whatever,” Lacey said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Sooo, Jim’s been a total dick this week,” she added, shifting gears. “I’m thinking it’s time to kick him to the curb. His whole self-absorbed thing is way annoying. I mean seriously, there’s more to life than constantly worrying about some Ivy League school you want to go to, right?"

I looked at her in shock, wondering if she was serious. Here I was pouring my guts out and she wants to talk about freaking Jim? How could she be so superficial at a time like this?

Lacey seemed oblivious to my shock as she continued to rant more about Jim and then about some sophomore that tried to sit in the spot I normally inhabited at school during lunch, like I would give a crap about that right now. I found myself shutting down listening to her meaningless tirade. My hurt cloaked me like a blanket as the harsh reality that I had no one I could lean on came crashing down on me.

Lacey stayed for an hour until it was obvious my sullen attitude was grating on her nerves. She flounced down the stairs to the front door and out to her waiting red convertible. The glimpse of her car as she swung the door closed behind her only added to my anguish. Just a week and a half ago I was convinced I deserved a car like that. As the engine purred to life, I was reminded of the hateful words I had thrown at my dad on that last awful day. I pitched a fit because I was sick of driving the sensible car my parents had bought me for my sixteenth birthday, feeling I deserved something hot and sporty like some of my friends drove.

“It’s not like you don’t make enough money,” I pouted as my dad drove me to school.

“Kassandra, it’s not the money. It’s your safety,” he answered for the hundredth time, sighing at my tone.

“Whatever, you’re just trying to make me a social leper,” I grumbled, shooting a glare back at Megan in her car seat. She swung her dangling feet, making them lightly kick the back of my seat with each forward motion. “Stop kicking my seat, Megan,” I said, taking my frustration out on her. I felt a small twinge of guilt when her pretty blue eyes had filled with unshed tears.

“Try not to kick her seat, okay, Peanut?” My dad had said, looking at her in the rearview mirror. “Take it easy, okay?” he said, looking at me disappointedly.

“Whatever, take her side.”

“We’re not trying to ruin your social life, Kassandra. We just don’t feel like you’re living up to your full potential,” he answered, ignoring my comment.

“Oh right, you just don’t like my friends.”

“Your friends are fine, but…What the heck is that guy’s problem?” he said looking in the rearview mirror.

I pulled myself from the painful memories, but I couldn't erase them from running like a slide show in my head. I was absolutely horrible that day, climbing out of the car and slamming the door behind me without saying goodbye.

Aunt Linda was waiting for me when I returned from the funeral and did not look pleased.

“Where have you been?” she asked, taking in my white button-down shirt and my only pair of slacks.

I debated ignoring her. By her tone it was obvious she already knew the answer to her question.

“I went to the funeral.”

“Why? Why would you do that? Haven’t we already done enough harm to that family?”

“No one saw me,” I lied, heading down the hall to my new room.

“Well, I hope not. Can you imagine the repercussions if the media caught wind of it?” she asked, following me down the hall.

“I know,” I said, aggravated at having my stupid actions shoved back in my face. I couldn’t explain to her why I felt the need to go. How I was dying to know if Kassandra was really as strong as she had seemed when we saw her on the news.

I closed my bedroom door firmly in my aunt’s face and sank onto the floral comforter that covered my new bed. When Aunt Linda took me in she told me to change the room however I wanted, to make it my own, but it felt wrong to reap the benefits of my father’s actions. So, I left all my possessions behind when I vacated the house I had shared with my father, taking only my clothes and the one framed picture we had of my mother. Leaving my stuff behind seemed like a small price to pay in light of what my dad had done to the Cole family.

I yanked off my formal duds and changed into a pair of ratty jeans and my favorite t-shirt proclaiming that
I would rather be a zombie killer than zombie bait
. I leaned back against the padded headboard and pulled out one of my only possessions, my iPod. I had been tempted to leave that behind too, but got the shakes thinking about leaving behind my only means of escape.