Distractions

                                    

                                          
                       CHAPTER THIRTEEN
This temporary resurrection helped me find a different perspective. One I hadn't considered before. I could settle in my misery, never allowing my wounds to fully heal. Or I could find my own ways to briefly mend the holes he left behind. 
"Text me when you're on your way!" Avery called from behind her as she shut the passenger side door. 
Nathan's headlights tore apart the cast of shadows, darkening the driveway. I braced myself and followed her into the downpour.
I could feel my gown growing heavier by the second. The raindrops, like glue, that helped the silk fabric stick to my skin as we raced up the driveway.
Our presence triggered the light sitting above the front door, and my eyes struggled to adjust. Despite the flood, the handle was dry. I grabbed for it, contaminating the metal with my dampened hand, and forced myself inside.
Relief washed over me. I could still hear the water humming like a lullaby in the distance. "Are we smoking tonight?" My newfound agenda didn't leave much time to waste. 
"Yeah," Avery replied, tearing the soaked red fabric from her body. 
Each room was no more full of life than they were earlier in the day. We traveled without caution towards the back of the house, where the light was still on at the end of the hallway. 
"Okay, so will you ask Nathan to get some from his uncle before he comes back?" I peeled the gown from my skin and tossed it onto the unmade covers. 
"We're not buying weed off of Nathan." Avery didn't say anything about the mess; she just positioned herself at the foot of the bed and undid the straps of her heels. 
"What?" I turned from the dresser to face her. "Why not?" 
"Because that would be weird. And I don't want to be a part of that."
"You sold that dub for him last night," I argued, wrestling through the different fabrics stuffed into the drawer. 
"That's different. I owed him a favor." Her heels fell from her feet one right after the other. "But I'm not gonna buy from him." 
"Okay," I sighed, frustrated by her uncompromising logic. "Well, what are we gonna do then?" 
"Do you know anyone else we could buy from?" I couldn't afford any dead ends. My bandages would only keep everything contained for so long. 
I needed another distraction soon, or the blood would start seeping through and I would go back into mourning. 
"We could ask—" She shook her head. "No, nevermind." 
"What?" On the bed, beside Avery, I placed a collection of dry clothes for the both of us to choose from. "Who is it?" 
"Well, there's this guy who used to be my neighbor, Chase." Avery's lips curled back distastefully. "I'm pretty sure he just posted something about selling."
"Okay, so message him." 
"I don't know." She hesitated, searching through each of her options one by one. "He's weird." 
"Just do it. He might not even answer." I dove inside the closet and stripped myself free from the wet discomfort. 
Outside, the rain was slowing. I could barely hear the raindrops pattering against the window now. 
"He answered." 
I left my dress behind on the closet floor and returned to Avery with dry clothes and a tall glass bottle. "That was quick." 
"Yeah. He—" Her eyes disappeared into the back of her head. "Used to like me." 
We traded places. And as I sat on the bed, holding the half-empty bottle in my grasp, I felt oddly hopeful.
Maybe I didn't need to wait for the pain to pass. Maybe I just needed distractions. To keep my mind busy until Julian could be forgotten. 
It wasn't a perfect plan. But for the first time since becoming a prisoner of my own suffering, I thought I might have another chance at existing. 
I wasn't sure I'd ever be whole again. But at least I would have a future instead of remaining stuck and reliving the same never-ending nightmare day after day. 
"He said we can come now," Avery said. Tucking the closet door shut behind her. 
The only reminder of rain was her hair. The curls had fallen, and the color had darkened into an assortment of deep red shades. "Wait, how are we supposed to get there?" 
It was going to take more than luck to be able to successfully pull this off; a plan this elaborate required sacrifices. So, I left the bottle behind, and we marched towards the kitchen. 
Beside the back door, little hooks were screwed into the smooth layer of paint. I was here the day of Lydia's eighteenth birthday, so I knew which keys went to the present that was waiting for her on the driveway that morning. 
"Are you sure Lydia won't care?" 
The storm passed as quickly as it came. The humidity that lingered made every part of me feel hopeful. 
There was opportunity in the air tonight, chess pieces were moving across the board exactly where I needed them to be.
"Yeah." I clicked a button on the fob, and all four doors unlocked. "She told me I could take it whenever I needed to."
The car was painted bone black. Which made it even harder to see as the rain blinded us. But it was there all along, dormant on the black top. 
"She got a Mercedes?" Avery peered at me from across the car, her hand reaching for the damp metal. 
"It's the alimony money." I slid myself into the driver's seat. It had been months since Lydia's birthday, but the leather still smelled brand new. 
The material was cool beneath my exposed skin. I tossed the key into the middle council beside us and pressed my foot on the break.
The engine jolted to life in front of us. Both headlights smothered the driveway in light. 
"You're okay to drive, right?" Suddenly, Avery seemed nervous. 
"I mean, yeah. I passed my driver's test." I didn't know what she was getting at. 
"But didn't you fail the first two times?" Her reply came out slowly, like she was trying to deliver it in the most subtle way possible. 
I nodded. "I mean, yeah."
"Okay, Faith." Her voice jumped an octave. 
Her concerns were reasonable. But I needed this to work. To be able to exist in some capacity. I shifted the car into park, and left her words behind me. 
Because even they weren't strong enough to close the door that I had now opened.
Eighteen © Wordstothewise ™ 2024