Six

The next morning I woke up to my mother’s voice yelling for me to get out of bed.

“Go away,” I mumbled sleepily pulling the covers over my head. I refused to keep my eyes open as her screams turned frantic. If only she’d let me have a few more minutes of sleep.

“It’s quarter to eight, Beth!” She was shouting now. “And I believe you only have twenty minutes to get to school.”

I shot out of bed and stared at her, “Why didn’t you wake me?” I was panicking.

“I tried.”

“I didn’t expect you to be in one piece,” I looked at her from her toes up. “I’m not going down that road again.”

“It was just one glass of whiskey and a couple of beers.”

“That’s how it always starts,” I lowered my voice. “And then you abandon your responsibilities as a mother.”

“I was going through a rough path,” Her voice was cold as usual as though she was enjoying a sunny day at the beach.

“He died in my arms,” I was still surprisingly calm. “It doesn’t get rougher than that.”

When she spoke again it was through clenched teeth and she turned bitter eyes on me, “He was my life!”

“He stopped being your life when you chose to have kids.”

She shook her head stubbornly and breathes through her narrow nose. When she looked at me again her eyes were clouded with hate, and as she inhaled she bit on the corner of her upper lip and then suddenly slapped her lips together, “A decision I regret every day.”

I stumbled back against the bed and my mouth almost dropped to the floor. I wasn't sure if it wasn't just my mind playing tricks on me or if she'd really said what I thought she said. She’d never said that before.

“You’ve never loved me,” She mumbled, taking advantage of my stunned silence.

“Oh spare me the insecurities.” I mumbled harshly. “I loved you. I just didn’t know you were Richard’s shadow.” I couldn't bring myself to be angry with her. I actually pitied her. She was a lonely woman. She had no friends, no money and she was trying to be a good mother but failing miserably.

She took threatening steps towards me. Her face was absolutely calm; her hair looked like a bird had flown into it and her make up looked like it was done by a four year old. She actually looked better than other days.

“If you hit me again I’m leaving,” I whispered. I wasn’t her punching bag. It was the alcohol. Whenever she had a little too much to drink she thought she was a wrestler and her kids were her opponents. She always apologised later. “I’m taking Zack with me.”

“He’s dying!”

“Your lack of faith will bring you to an early grave,” I mumbled. Surprisingly I was still VERY calm. “I wish you’d died instead of dad.”

I regretted the words the second they left my mouth. “Mom, I didn’t mean it.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, “Yes you did.”

I couldn’t bring myself to feel her pain. “No... Mom, you’re not that bad.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Elizabeth,” She almost smiled through her sadness. “It’s endearing.”

“Okay I meant it,” I said. “But just a little bit. I know you’re trying. I should be more understanding.”

“I’m going to get better,” She declared. “The drinking. I’ll stop.”

“Try.”

“I just don’t know how to play both parts.”

“Your job is to be a mother, not a father.” I mumbled. “I have to get ready for school.”

I was in and out of the shower within a minute. My stomach hurt. I realised I was hungry and I was physically exhausted from the fight with Janice, we always fought when she drank. I grabbed my purse, school bag and ran to the back door. My mother was there with my lunch box. Her way of apologizing. Oh, she was heaven sent.

“Err... Thanks mom,” I forced a smile. I was still very much angry with her but I tried not to let my anger show on my face.

“Pleasure,” she smiled. It was the first genuine smile I’d seen in years. But I didn’t have time to admire her like I would have loved to. I noticed that she was still in her pyjamas.

“No work today?”

She shook her head. “I wish. I start later, at nine. My new boss prefers if I get there when they’ve already left for work.”

I nodded. “Guess I’ll see you later.” I stumbled when a thought crossed my mind “Was Bradley at home yesterday?” I was looking down, embarrassed. I don't know why I cared about his whereabouts.

She frowned and shook her head. “Which one is Brandon?”

“The younger one... Bradley.”

“No,” She raised an eyebrow. “Why would you ask?”

“He skipped school yesterday.”

She raised one bushy eyebrow and did some kind of smirk. It was so unskilled that it looked like a grimace. “And you noticed?” she was suspicious.

“He’s in my class.”

“Right.”

She needed to sleep. The bags under her eyes didn’t look nice on her. “Try to rest will you.”

She nodded and I backed out the garage and walked down the street. I made it just as school started. I decided to wait by the gate until the parking lot was clear. I didn’t want to be shoved around by kids rushing to their classes. While I waited I couldn’t stop staring at the car next to me. Its rich dark colour reminded me of something but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly.

Eventually the parking lot was clear and silent. I grabbed my belongings and opened the gate at about the same time a figure stepped out of the Ferrari. I was surprised to see Bradley. He stood tall and stared directly at my face; it was as though he was studying me, taking me in. I couldn’t move my eyes from his black ones as they drank me in, every curve of my face.

Those eyes drew me in, hypnotizing me. I stood frozen. My lips suddenly felt dry and I swept my tongue over my bottom lip and I could have sworn I heard a growl. But I knew I must have been way out of my mind. There was no dog in sight and the idea of wolves was just plain crazy. I don’t remember how I ended up pinned to his car, or how he’d gotten to me so fast. I froze. I was mesmerized. Amazed. His intoxicating scent sent shivers up and down my spine.

“Do that one more time, I dare you.” His voice was low, velvety, and seductive.

The threat was lost in his foreign accent, I felt butterfly wings caress my stomach and then he was gone.

I wasn’t sure if I hadn’t imagined the whole thing. How could he vanish just like that? It wasn’t possible. I must be crazy. That’s the only logical explanation. I couldn’t get my breathing back to normal and my legs felt spongy. The drum of my heart was too loud even for my ears to bear. It was a couple of minutes until I managed to pull myself together.

I walked fast to my class and for the life of me I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t get rid of his body warmth, I couldn’t get his tense jaw out of my head, and the intoxicating smell of his breath still lingered in my mouth.

I knew then I’d lost my mind.

It was the last period of the day and I kept my eyes on my desk. I refused to look at him. I felt guilty. As though he’d know what I’d imagined this morning, the crazy thoughts swelling around my mind. I avoided eye contact with him the best way I could as I scanned, without seeing the book in front of me. I could feel his gaze on me though, I could feel the heat from his gaze and it made my insides blaze.

I exhaled in relief when the final bell sounded. He was the last to leave. I made the mistake of looking up as he stood. Those eyes, I held my pen tighter to keep myself from stabbing them with it. It was illegal for someone to have such mesmerizing beautifully lethal eyes.

He laughed then. It was an exotic sound, something musical. It was as though he heard my thoughts. The amusement danced in his eyes. His musical laugh rang in my ears long after he’d left the room. My eyes wondered to my hand. The blisters were more visible today but the pain was gone. I frowned. It was all strange. Was I allergic to something he'd touched? Was I imagining the blisters? How could someone do what Bradley had done? Was it just me or could he do it to everybody he touched? Was he sick? Perhaps he had a contagious disease.