The Glass Secret (Chain of Secrets) (26 page)

Several weeks later my grandmother passed away; it was the last day of summer. I was sixteen years old, and it felt like my life had ended, too. It might as well have. I never got the chance to say good-bye to her. That broke my heart. She had always been my confidante, my partner in crime and she understood me better than anyone.

I began to question, more so than ever, whether the voice within my head was even an angel at all. What if he was a part of a master plan to take us all over? What if there were other people walking about with voices in their heads, and they too just didn’t talk about them out of fear of being ridiculed?

One night I had a dream; it felt so real. Everybody in the city of New York was walking around numb, out of control, and talking to themselves. What a nightmare!

In retrospect, I wanted to believe that Storm was an angel as Grandmother had said, but what if her theory was wrong? Storm was not always angelic. At times, I felt he was the devil’s advocate, a real control freak and the master of my universe. Still, I had doubts.



After my Grandmother had passed away, I withdrew into a deep depression. My parents reassured my brother and me that she was in a better place, Heaven. I believed in the afterlife, too, and that we go to a better place, but it didn’t comfort me as it should have. The empty space that my grandmother’s death left in my heart would never cease. She was my hero, and I missed her more than anything. Time had not eased the void that ached in the deepest part of my heart since she’d been gone.

I cursed the voices for taking my grandmother’s life. I blamed anyone I could, and I didn’t acknowledge Storm
for over nine weeks. I remember this well because Karma had given birth to her
fourth
litter during this time. I could not find solace, so as a result I completely ignored Storm.





Months had passed by when I finally worked up the courage to visit my grandmother’s old farmhouse in Connecticut. It was Thanksgiving Day, and as it turned out, it was the last time I had ever visited her home. It was such a special place of my youth.

I felt the presence of Storm near, lingering in the depths of my mind. What a forgiving soul he was to be there to comfort me, despite my bitter angst toward him and his heavenly world.

I held onto the single petal that had fallen from the flower. It was soft, fresh and felt like velvet between my fingers, which comforted me, too. There was still the essence of my grandmother’s life in the room. It was ever so quiet. I stared for the longest time into the stream of sunlight that bounced off the objects in her home. I remembered taking naps with her and waking up to the same sunlight beaming on our faces. Now, it seemed so remote and filled with those tiny dust fairies. Where does the life go when the dust settles?

Dad brought in a pile of logs and stacked them in the large fireplace. After he built a toasty fire, he left me there alone to make my peace. Sitting near the hearth, my eyes were heavy as I gazed into the burning embers. My vision blurred, hypnotized by the blue flickers of light.

A mental image of my grandmother’s crystal blue eyes, her delicate smile, materialized. I could almost hear her voice, her whispers
—I love you so much.
Before my eyes, a vision manifested, her tender hands knitting together, in a peaceful rhythm, the precious shawl that still keeps me warm on cold winter nights.

The air shifted in the room as the wind kicked hard against the old farmhouse’s tattered facade. The powerful gust caused the little French window in the corner of the room to push open. I scurried to shut the window, pausing at the sight outside. The snow was thickening, and it was breathtaking. One perfect snowflake landed into the palm of my hand, then slowly melted away. A chill passed through me as I closed the weathered windowpanes.

Quickly, I cuddled up into the delicate rocker near the fireplace where my grandmother would read for hours. Draped on the back of the chair was the crotchet blanket that she had made. I pulled it down and covered myself from head to toe.

The air in the room was as benumbed as my heart. I tightened the shawl around my shoulders, feeling the warmth of her arms surrounding me as always. My grandmother was with me still, veiling my battered soul and easing the pain of the loss I was suffering.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get to say goodbye, Grandma.” No sooner had I spoken aloud, the lights flickered in the room. I knew it was her way of telling me goodbye, too. It was time to let go. She wanted it this way. A somber feeling of acceptance and tranquility settled in my heart. She was home.

“Goodbye Grandma.”

-28-

Rumors!

Nuilley Lambert nearly knocked me over when she yanked me into the girl’s bathroom at school. Her excitement about something was boiling over. Meanwhile, I just wanted to get to my next class.

Nuilley was my best friend, so of course, I conceded and followed her lead with caution. She probably wanted me to hang with her while she smoked a cigarette or something else. I didn’t smoke, so this had better be worth the trouble it could have cost me. She always seemed to have something up her sleeve, and I was always reluctant to get involve.

“Brielle, you are not going to believe this—Jordan broke up with Tracy,” she shrieked with excitement. Despite her amazement, culminated by the rumor, I was not shocked. Our school was small, private and news spread fast.

“Oh yeah, I know. I heard that rumor this morning in ballet class,” I replied, wondering what this had to do with me.

Jordan Ramsey was the most popular, smartest and hottest guy in our school. He was the star player on our high school football team.

“It’s not a rumor, it’s true. Tracy has been spreading some really bad rumors about him...then, get this, Jordan found out she has been living a double life.”

I knew about living double lives better than anyone. I’m sure her alternate life wasn’t anything like mine.

“You’re kidding me, right? How so?”

“Tracy has been sleazing around with Jordan’s best friend, Roy.” Nuilley flipped her hair back in a flamboyant manner, seemingly very proud to be the bearer of bad news.

I couldn’t believe this about Tracy, she seemed so in love with Jordan. Something didn’t add up about her version of the story. My mind flashed back. I recalled witnessing Tracy crying on Roy’s shoulder, but she did not seem flirtatious at all.

However, things are not always as they appear. I was not buying into all the drama. Nuilley loved to add extra details to rumors that were not always true. I needed to hear the entire story from a credible source.

“There’s more,” Nuilley beamed. I knew there was more to Nuilley’s gossip.

“What else, Nui?” I asked.

“The best part of the rumor is—” Nuilley squealed. Her voice was reaching high magnitudes when I interrupted.

“Rumors aren’t facts...but, what is it Nuilley?” I nonchalantly inquired as I applied some roll on lip-gloss.

“Well, Jordan told Sam”—Sam was Nuilley’s boyfriend—“that he wants to ask you to the prom. According to Sam, Jordan’s had his eye on you for a while now. Can you believe that?”

“Not really.” My ears perked up. Now the picture was coming together. “But you said this was a rumor.”

“Well, it was a rumor—until about thirty minutes ago.” Nuilley quipped. My nerves were flaring up. What did Nuilley do? “He likes you—he likes you—he really likes you.” God, her words resonated as if I had just won an Oscar.

My feelings were mutual; I liked Jordan, too. Nuilley claimed that Jordan was nervous about asking me out. I had a hard time believing that one, too. In fact, I didn’t buy it at all...
Jordan worried about me turning him down
. This was all hearsay.

“Why are you so confident—how do you know what he feels?” I asked her with a hint of suspicion weaved into my tone.

“Well, he does...I just know things.”

“How?” I demanded.

“When I ran into Jordan a bit ago, I tested him out.”

“Oh Lord, Nuilley, don’t tell me you...” I tightened my lips, feeling steam pushing through my ears.

“I told him—Brie, don’t get mad—I told him
fuck yeah
Brielle will go with you to prom!” She blurted out.

“You what? You actually talked to Jordan yourself? You said that?” I flushed, feeling anxiety rising in my chest. I didn’t mind that Nuilley spoke on my behalf. In fact, I was sort of relieved that she did.

Excitement plowed through me when I thought about the potential future with Jordan that came with Nuilley’s confession. What she was saying about Jordan was no longer a rumor, but a fact.

“Fuck yeah, I did! Why? You want to go with him, right?” Nuilley had always sworn like Captain Blue Beard.

“Yes, but...Crap...Nuilley, I have to ask my parents still. They better let me go with him, damn it.” And, here I was trying to do some swearing of my own. I felt uncomfortable at times trying to be cool by cursing.

“Oh, whatever, your parents are the coolest. They let you do whatever you want, Miss Goodie Two Shoes! You’ve done good pulling this one off,” Nuilley said pointedly.

“Tsk…it’s not my fault that Storm—” I sharply whispered, then bit my tongue both hard and purposefully. I couldn’t believe I almost slipped and told her that Storm was the one making sure I towed the line. It was Storm’s fault that I had a
Miss Goodie Two Shoes
reputation. Damn, back then I blamed him for all my problems; I was such a little shit.

Nuilley knew
almost
everything about me. She definitely knew that I would go to prom with Jordan but, as much as she knew, Nuilley had no idea about Storm. I had to keep it this way. After all, I had done a great job for years keeping him a secret from everyone. I was successful at keeping him stuffed away in the cells of my little head.

“What—Who is Storm? What are you talking about?”

“Crap. I’m bleeding.” I pressed the tip of my tongue between my index and thumb. My painful, however, perfect diversion worked to change the subject.

“Dang, that’s a lot of blood,” Nuilley said, scrunching up her long thin nose and contorting her mouth.

“Yeah...okay, enough about Jordan.”

“Why Brielle? You’re the luckiest girl at Independence High,” Nuilley shrieked as she jumped up and down and so did her braless boobs. I wondered how it was possible for her to jiggle so much; she was so flat and flat boobs don’t jiggle. “You know what this will do to your reputation? Finally. To be going to the prom with Jordan. Say goodbye to Miss Good—”

I covered Nuilley’s mouth. She continued to mumble beneath my palm.

“Hold on,” I said, turning on all the faucets in the sinks. I was trying to create a noise barrier in case Storm was eavesdropping.

“Why are you running the water?” Nuilley asked.

“Whisper. I think someone is in that stall.” I tilted my head toward what I was sure was an empty stall. I needed Nuilley to whisper. Her voice carried far and wide, like a homing pigeon.

Nuilley moved to New York from Paris when she was in the seventh grade; she and I had been best friends since. We planned one day to visit Paris together—the land of elegance and style.

Her mother was a retired model, a divorcee who started a jewelry line after they relocated in New York City. Somehow, the soft-spoken traits her mother possessed skipped Nuilley all together; she had the biggest mouth in the city when it came to volume. I didn’t want, or need Storm to over hear any details about Jordan.

“I feel like fainting. God knows where this could lead.” I beamed, whispering to Nuilley while trying to contain the thrill.

“Are you going to sleep with him? Maybe you shouldn’t, Brielle,” she said disconcertingly.

“What? No. I wouldn’t do that.” I grimaced.

“Promise? It won’t be easy—you know he likes virgins.” She frowned as she said this, but I didn’t think her expression was for me. I knew Nuilley had lost her virginity years ago, too many years ago and, perhaps, she regretted this now.

I was three months from turning eighteen and still innocent and quite naive when it came to boys and sex. This too was something else I was ready to change.

“Shhhh, keep your voice down, someone might hear you. The fact I am a virgin doesn’t need to be spread around school.”

“Oui—Oui...I get your point.”

“Let’s get out of here.” I grabbed some tissue and headed toward the door.

-29-

Life’s major challenges!

The morning sun beamed through the cracks in my blinds. I could see small dust particles dancing like an array of ballet dancers. I imagined that they were real, strange tiny creatures from an unknown universe. I stretched out flat on my stomach across my bed, lost in a daydream and thumbing through a few fashion magazines—already searching for a dress for prom.

“You know that Jordan boy is going to try to pin you, don’t you?”

“Pin me? Who talks like that? No one talks like that Storm,” I murmured, rolling my eyes, still flipping through the pages, determined to ignore him.