“
Yes
!” she screamed. “I’m seventeen, for God’s sake! I still have another year of high school!”
“Kara,” I said, reaching forward to control her flailing arms. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at me. “Mattie loves you. He just wants you to know how much he cares.”
“Then tell him to buy flowers,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to get married.”
“No one said you had to.”
“But that’s what he expects,” she said, shoving my arms away from her. “All I wanted was to talk to him, to tell him that I’d heard about his plan and to ask him to call it off. I told him marriage was out of the question, that we were just too young.”
I thought back to the argument Charlie and I had (purposely) overheard.
Their muffled words made a lot more sense when I realize she’d been saying they were
too young
for
marriage.
“I told him I needed time,” she said. “
A lot
of time. I want to graduate high school and go to college. I want to travel the world, meet new people, experience life, you know? All I wanted was for him to understand that there are a million things I want to do before I agree to spend the rest of my life with one person. I mean, he was just a stupid high school boyfriend! That’s all he was!”
“Wow,” I said, nodding once. “You—you told him that?”
“Yes!”
God, no wonder he was so hurt. He’d spent the last four months working himself to the bone to save money to buy the girl an engagement ring. He’d had his heart set on proposing to her, marrying her, spending the rest of his life with her! And she saw him as nothing more than a
stupid high school boyfriend
?
“What did he say when you told him that?”
“He told me to leave,” Kara said, and her eyes filled with tears again. “Can you believe that?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “That was kind of a cold-hearted thing for you to say to someone who loves you. What he told his friends, Kara, was nothing for him to be ashamed of. He wasn’t bragging or boasting. He was
sharing
. I mean… yes, you can be angry about not knowing or finding out the way you did, but you
can’t
think you’re entitled to treat him like crap. He loves you, Kara. He wants to share his life with you.”
“
I don’t care
,” she said, shaking her head. “His expectations were unreasonable, Julie, and I deserve more than that! I
shouldn’t
have found out like that!”
“Kara,” I said, reaching forward, but she smacked my hand away.
Great, another bruise.
“I can’t believe you knew about this and didn’t tell me,” she said, shaking her head. “Some friend you’ve turned out to be.”
“Now, come on,” I said, letting go of what little restraint I had. “That’s not fair! He asked me not to say anything, and I promised I wouldn’t. I—kept—my—word! He’s my cousin, Kara.
My best friend!
What was I supposed to do?”
“Goodbye Julie,” she said, turning away. “Do us both a favor and never talk to me again.”
Wednesday, June 05
“
I don’t want to talk about it
,” I said, not giving Charlie the opportunity to ask why I’d just slammed the front door. He lowered his book, removed his reading glasses, and watched as I stomped up the stairs.
Halfway to my room I could’ve sworn I heard him mumble something about the joys of raising two teenagers.
I paced across my bedroom floor for at least ten minutes. Back and forth, back and forth. Every now and then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and once or twice I even rolled my eyes at my own stupidity.
God, I was angry!
The problem was… I didn’t know
why
I was angry.
Was it because I’d kept a huge, life-altering secret from a friend? Was she right?
Should
I have told her? Should I have said something to prepare her for what was coming? Or had I done right by Matt by keeping his secret?
Or was I angry because I’d just stood there defenselessly, letting her berate me? I’d let someone—someone who’d claimed to be my friend—yell at me and make me feel like I was six inches tall.
Or maybe it was because I’d let her—Kara and her stupid argument with Matt—ruin what should’ve been one of the happiest days of my life?
Luke had asked me to be his girlfriend, for crying out loud!
After all this time… after everything we’d been through….
I could’ve killed Kara for ruining it.
After taking a few more minutes and a few much-needed breaths—
count to ten, Julie, count to ten
—I stomped out of the bedroom and stopped short of Matt’s door. I could hear him inside, and I was certain he was crying.
But it was Matt, and Matt never cried.
I took a deep breath and knocked on his door, but he didn’t answer, so I didn’t pry. The last thing I needed was for him to start cursing or throwing things at me again. And honestly, for once in my life, I didn’t feel like it was my place to ask questions…. Nothing I could say would make him feel any better. If anything, I’d probably only make things worse.
I turned back and headed for my room, but a string hanging from the center of the ceiling grabbed my attention and stopped me dead in my tracks.
Looking over my shoulder as if I was about to do something wrong, I reached up, took the string in hand, and with a little bit of force revealed the rickety staircase to the attic—where Charlie had stored most of Mom and Dad’s belongings—and I climbed the small steps until I reached the third level of the house.
It was the first time I’d gone up there, and the first time I’d seen a lot of the old stuff that used to fill our two-story brick home back in West Bridge.
No one had ever said I wasn’t allowed in the attic… I just never assumed it would be okay.
But I’d made a decision earlier—just before I’d run into Kara—and I needed to keep my mind focused.
And that’s just what I intended to do.
So, I searched.
I spent a while looking around, sifting through some of my parents’ old things. Most of it was probably junk we could’ve thrown out months ago, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to climb those stairs, let alone to come up and toss anything—not even Mom’s expired coupons or Dad’s holey socks (and Dad had
a lot
of holey socks).
Though I’d gone up to the attic with a mission to find Dad’s cedar box, I didn’t mind the many distractions I found as I sifted through dozens of crates, hundreds of boxes, and even a shoebox full of unorganized knick-knacks.
At the front corner of the room was Mom’s wedding trunk, and I didn’t have to open it to know what I’d find inside. Along with her scrapbook, picture albums, and keepsakes, I’d find her wedding dress. I lifted the lid anyway to find it—the simple, white, A-line gown she’d worn on the day she married my father. How it hadn’t collected years of dust, dirt, and stains… I’d never know. I was certain that it was just as beautiful as it was the day she’d bought it.
I pulled it from the trunk and lifted it to my body, certain that it would fit like a glove and fall just below my knees.
But Mom had never let me try it on. She wanted me to save it for my own special day.
I didn’t let myself admire the dress for too long; I didn’t need to bring myself to tears. I had enough to worry about without letting memories of my parents flood my mind. I folded her gown exactly the way I’d found it and tucked it safely back inside the trunk.
I turned away from the wedding mementos and sifted through some old boxes nearby. It was shortly after I started digging around the attic entrance that Charlie poked his head through the opening.
“Hey, Pumpkin,” he said, watching me with wide eyes. “Looking for something?”
I ignored the question for only a moment, but then I turned back to my uncle with a puzzled expression.
“
Hmm?”
“What’re you lookin’ for?” he asked, taking another step up; no longer a floating head, I could now see my uncle from the chest up.
I sat only feet away, still planted firmly in the same spot I’d found just a while earlier.
I wiped some dust from my jeans and stood up, keeping my head low so I wouldn’t smack the wooden beams overhead. I let my eyes sweep the stacks of boxes, piles of papers, and countless pieces of junk Charlie had collected over the years.
“Julie?”
“Do you remember seeing Dad’s cedar box?” I asked, holding my hands only nine inches part. “About this big? His name’s engraved across the front.”
Charlie’s chest swelled with a deep breath.
“Why?” he asked, and he had to clear his throat to keep his voice from cracking. “What do you want with it?”
“You know where it is?”
“It sure as hell isn’t in this attic collecting dust,” he said, blinking a few times. He tried to act as if the dirt from the floor had gotten in his eyes, but I could see that the mere mention of my father’s box had gotten to him.
“I want to give it to Luke—”
“You need to come on down, Julie,” he said, dismissing what I’d said as quickly as I’d said it. “I don’t like you poking around up here. It’s too dark; you could get hurt.”
I nodded once and pushed Dad’s things back into place.
“Are you going to let me have the box?” I asked.
“We’ll talk about it,” Charlie said, stepping down. And though his lips said
we’ll talk about it
, his tone communicated something more along the lines of
sure,
when hell freezes over
. “Come on.”
Stomping toward the opening—hell-bent on communicating my frustration with him—my foot hit a rickety floorboard, and my entire leg fell through the attic floor. I tumbled forward and slammed against the wood, and the force of my body brought a whole section of the attic floor—along with me—crashing down to the second-floor hallway.
A few boxes toppled down with the floor, and Mom’s wedding trunk landed square on my back.
Charlie jumped from the last step and threw the trunk off of me, and we watched as debris poured over the broken ceiling.
Most of the attic floor—everything above the hallway, anyway—had given out, and most of it had fallen on the two of us. Luckily, though, we were both more shocked than hurt.
Matt swung his door open and looked down at us as we stared up at the giant hole in the ceiling. His eyes drifted upward, and his jaw seemed to unhinge.
“Whoa,” Matt whispered, still looking at the gaping hole. “And I thought I had problems.”
Chapter Four
Wednesday, June 05
“Whoa, Jules,” Luke said, nearly tripping over his feet as he stumbled around Bruno’s desk. “What the hell happened to you?”
I combed my bangs downward, hoping they’d magically grow a few inches longer to cover the darkening bruise around my left eye.
Falling through the floor had sucked, sure, and I could’ve lived without the black eye. But my problems were nothing compared to the ones Charlie had to face in the upcoming days, and I felt terrible that everything had literally come crashing down without a moment’s notice.
Luckily for my uncle, he knew a few guys who were willing to come out after hours and take a look at the damage upstairs. But those guys knew some other guys, and
those
were the ones who had given us the worst news of all.
And even though it had only been a few hours since the ceiling collapsed and then tumbled down on top of me, my left eye had only gotten larger, and the blackness seemed to spread a little more as time went on.
Between my poking-slapping-shoving match with Kara and The Great Ceiling Collapse of Three Hours Ago, I was nothing more than a giant, walking bruise.
“Jules?” Luke said, resting both of his hands on my shoulders. He knelt lower to meet my gaze, and his eyes traced the swelling just above my left cheek.
“I fell,” I said, looking up.
“You fell?”
“Yes,” I said, and I forced a smile to ease the tension. “Crash, ker-plunk.”
Luke stood taller and tilted his head. I wasn’t sure if he believed me or not, but as he crossed his arms at his chest and raised one hand to his mouth, I sensed he was trying to read my mind.
“I went up to the attic, the floor gave out, and I fell. All the way down to the second floor. Landed on my face.”
Bruno snickered, and Luke shot an unimpressed glare in his direction.
“You fell through the attic floor?” Luke asked, turning back to me.
“Yep,” I said, clapping my hands together to make a splatter.
Bruno chuckled again, but he didn’t get a reaction from Luke this time. He simply kept his head low, listened to our conversation, and chewed at the corner of his meatball sub, never once looking over in our direction.
“Jules,” Luke said under his breath, and he moved my hair to the side to examine my eye. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Just a few cuts and bruises,” I said, examining my arms. I managed a half-smile for his benefit; I didn’t need him thinking that I’d nearly died or anything. “I’ll survive. I promise.”
And I was confident in that much.
After everything I’d been through in the past year and a half, after everything that had just happened back in Piqua… I didn’t see how I had any choice but to keep surviving. I’d lived through so much and escaped so many uncertainties. I’d felt like my number had come up more than once, and yet I still managed to walk away with nothing but a few bad memories, nightmares, and scars.
I mean… things could’ve been so much worse.
If I’d been home the night Conan had killed my parents….
If Luke hadn’t showed up the night Hannah had gone off the deep end….
If Derek hadn’t pulled the trigger….
“Is there anything I can do for you, kid?”
“Yes,” I said matter-of-factly.
“Okay?”
“I know you’re busy,” I said, gnawing on my bottom lip, though I wasn’t sure he was
really
all that busy. After all, he wasn’t even on duty. What kind of ‘busy’ person goes to work on their off hours just to hang out? “And I know this isn’t the best time, but… I
do
need your help. I’m kind of in a rut.”