Feeling This by Casey Blue

was the first time we laid
eyes on one another. It was her way of rebelling against her controlling
mother. She would do things subtly here and there to let her mother know that she
was really the one with all the power. Staying at my apartment as often as she
did, proved that. My breath catches realizing that she really wasn’t in
control, at all.
    I avert my eyes from the stairs and make my
way into the back parlor where the bar is situated. Dan, Susan’s father, is
standing next to it staring out the wide picture window across the acres of
grasses and gardens spanning the backyard.
    I turn to leave the room before he can
notice my presence but I hear his desperate voice before I can get away,
“Jordan?”
    I turn on my heel and pocket my hands,
staring at the cream tile under my feet.
    “Jordan, son, can we talk a little?”
    I look up and meet his pained expression,
“Sir, I don’t…I’m sorry, I don’t think I can have this conversation right now.”
    He nods, acknowledging my apology, but
waves me in changing his tone, “I understand. Come have a drink, I know that’s
why you’re in here.”
     I slowly walk forward and grasp the drink
he hands me a moment later. I lift the glass to my lips, savoring the sharp
taste of whiskey and swallow the rest in one short gulp. He holds his hand out
for my empty glass and fills it back up. This time I sip it, cradling the glass
while the numb feeling the alcohol offers, begins to spread. I welcome it. Dan
turns back toward the back yard as if searching for something just out of his
gaze. I realize at this point we are all lost and searching for something that
will never again be present in our lives. My heart aches for her.
    As the night rolls on, a barrage of friends
and family utter their condolences. After a while I get tired of trying to play
the part. Whatever that part is I’m supposed to be playing. I frequent the bar
until my dad finally finds me alone in the room endearingly named the library,
by Susan when she was a little girl. It has two full walls of books from floor
to ceiling. Centered above the leather settees is an amber chandelier which
gives the room an incandescent glow.
    He comes to a stop in front of me, and
slowly lowers himself to the edge of the brown leather couch across from me,
“Jordan, I came to let you know that I’m taking your mother home.”
    I nod and look away taking another swallow
of my almost empty glass.
    “Son, come with us, come home for the
night. I’ll bring you back in the morning to get your car.” His voice is almost
cracking, while pleading with me.
    I consider his request as I peruse my
options; the empty apartment with reminders of Susan everywhere or my parent’s
where there are people, where I won’t be alone.
    I push myself up out of the chair and
momentarily lose my balance. My dad scurries to his feet as I stumble and
secures me before I can fall. I set the glass down on the low, round table and
gesture to the door, “Let’s go.”
    My words sound a little slurred to my ears.
Better this way though. It keeps my mind numb unable to focus on anything for
long periods of time.

 

Chapter Eight
    Kimber
     
    Mrs. Bruin was in her own world this
afternoon. I was concerned, but it ended up being a blessing in disguise. The last
thing I wanted to talk about was Momma. Lately that seems to be her topic of
choice. I know she means well, making sure Momma is getting her meds and the
bills are being paid, but it’s too much sometimes. One of the main reasons I
stay away from home as much as possible is to avoid all the hassle and fussing.
    After making the pies and helping Mrs.
Bruin gather lunch for the ranch hands, I played at least six rounds of Candyland
with the twins. They beat me every time. When lunch rolled around Mr. Bruin
came in to get the food we made for all the ranch hands. I know she likes
having me around, but she could do all this stuff on her own. It makes me feel
like a charity case sometimes and