Blue Read online

  “Well, I see you two have reconnected.” Daveigh walked into the room with a bounce in her step. Her upbeat mood quickly skidded to a halt as she took a moment to watch both of us in our stoic splendor. “Damn, it’s cold in here,” she muttered.

  Much like a game of chess, both of us were waiting for the other to make the next move. It had become a test of wills, and a checkmate was impossible.

  “Someone, say something,” Daveigh said. “Both of you are making this place as uncomfortable as a whore sitting in church.”

  My mother’s stare suddenly broke free from me, and she turned toward my sister. “I’m glad you’re here, Daveigh. I know you only live ten minutes away, but the gesture is appreciated.” The words were intended to hurt while they excluded me from the equation. My defenses were already up, and I paid little attention to her attempt at paining me.

  My mom’s focus shifted, turning toward the kitchen table.

  Memories of a million family dinners infiltrated my head. Most of those held me as the parental role since I was the oldest. Tom and Elana Meyers were too busy to break bread with their own kids. Even from childhood, I was forced to grow up early on to take care of Finn and ‘Veigh.

  A pile of mail was neatly stacked at the place setting where my step-father rarely sat. The gingham cushion on the seat was still plush, a pristine white and red. The thing was as new as the day it was purchased many years ago. Three others were worn with age, flattened, slightly discolored. She walked across the room briskly and grabbed two tablets of paper from the top of the pile, each with a pen hooked to the top.

  She handed one set to my sister and tossed the second to me. “Here.”

  “What’s this?” I asked with a frown.

  She only spoke to Daveigh. Maybe it was easier for her that way. “I’d like for you to each prepare something to say at the funeral. Make it heartfelt, but not too sappy. The election could be affected if this gets screwed up. There’s no doubt a reporter from the Steele Falls Chronicle will be at the service. Everything has to be perfect.”

  The fucking election. How quickly I’d forgotten about that time of year. Elana Meyers had a sick fascination, nearly an obsession, with being mayor for the small city. I’d secretly joked her dick was bigger than half of the men in Steele Falls. Massive hours, not to mention dollars, were poured into her campaigns to ensure landslide victories. And she’d prevailed. Every time. Without a limit on how many terms an individual could serve, she’d made it her lifelong mission to keep everyone else out of the position so she could maintain her throne.

  “Whoa,” I said, putting my hands up to stop her from continuing. “I’m not speaking a damn word at the—”

  “Watch. Your. Mouth.” A thin layer of bitter rage bubbled beneath her words, setting off a domino effect. Next, her nostrils flared and finally her lower lip trembled. “You will speak at your father’s funeral, and you will be sincere about it. You will dress appropriately for the occasion, and you will converse with anyone who wishes to express their condolences to you. Do you understand?”

  “Step,” I muttered.

  “And if you don’t…” She paused. “Do not step me; he was your father, Blue Ann Brennan. And if you don’t follow my directions, there will be consequences. Outside of writing, I want you out of my sight for the next few days. Is that clear?” Her voice lowered to a hiss, “Don’t you forget about what I did for you.”

  My shoulders wilted from the string of words she used against me. I’d chosen the wrong moment to stand up for myself.

  “Public speaking freaks me out,” Daveigh said meekly. “Don’t you remember when I passed out in high school during the homecoming ceremony? I dropped like a leaf at the football game, halfway bent over the float when they called the paramedics. And don’t get me started about when the goat mounted me from behind and tried to hump my ass. Some queen I turned out to be. I don’t think I can…”

  “You’ll do fine. And your school mascot won’t be at the cemetery.” Elana’s voice and expression were both tender as she brushed Daveigh’s hair out of her face before cupping her daughter’s chin in the palm of her hand. “I have faith you’ll string a beautiful speech together and execute it without a hitch.”

  “Of course.” Daveigh nodded once before averting her eyes. “Whatever you want, Mommy.”

  I’d been in the house for less than fifteen minutes, and I was already being ordered around and shunned. Just like old times. It helped remind me why I left in the first place, amongst other weighty reasons.

  Elana strode across the room and grabbed a bright, blue blazer from the back of a kitchen chair. “There’s a council meeting tonight, so I won’t be home until late. I assume you two can handle finding dinner?”

  “I’m twenty-three and I live on my own, Mom. Pretty sure I’ve succeeded in keeping myself alive without anyone’s help.” I knew my tone was rude and it warranted the glare she gave me. In my defense, she’d started it.

  “We’ll be fine, Mommy,” Daveigh reassured her.

  Without another word, she grabbed her Gucci purse from the counter, and her Louboutin’s clacked across the floor as she left without a goodbye. Even with zero words, Elana Meyers was able to make her presence loudly known.

  Daveigh blew her hair out of her face. “Well, that could’ve went worse.”

  “And it could’ve went a lot better.” I let the tension out of my shoulders.

  “At least the house didn’t implode.”

  “Thank goodness for small wins.” I rubbed my face. “I need a drink.”

  “C’mon,” Daveigh said, grabbing her keys and purse from the counter.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Fill & Spill. You said you needed a drink.”

  “Is going to the town bar appropriate considering what—”

  “If Mommy can go to a political meeting in light of recent events, I think we can go grab a burger and a beer without being judged. Plus, I could use the break from reality and from crying.”

  For the first time since I’d arrived, I looked at my sister and tried to empathize with her feelings about losing a parent. It was an unsuccessful attempt. That part of my heart was ice cold and shielded by a suit of armor. While I was able to comprehend that Tom’s death hit Daveigh much harder than it hit me, by about a thousand percent, I was immune to being emotional about it. Then again, he was her blood relative. He wasn’t mine. My own birth father was a pathetic excuse for a douche-bucket who I hadn’t seen since I was an infant. I rarely thought about him and spoke about him even less. There were no emotional ties to the man who I equated as a sperm donor. Yet, I still never considered my step-dad an actual parent either, even though he’d been a fixture in my life since I was a toddler.

  I opened my mouth and closed it, wondering why I bothered to defend my mother after the way she’d treated me.

  “You know I’m right,” Daveigh sang confidently. “Admit it.”

  “Fine. You win. I’ll be right back.”

  Daveigh rolled her eyes. “Sure you will.”

  “Stop it. I want to take my luggage out back so I don’t have to do it later.”

  “Right.” She elongated the single syllable into a much longer word.

  I ignored her snarky retort and quickly wheeled my suitcase out through the kitchen door, across the covered patio, and down the cobblestone path to the mother-in-law cottage on the edge of the property. A thick layer of trees surrounded the area, which was once my personal sanctuary. As always, it was unlocked. I opened the door and flipped on the light. Nothing had changed or been moved from the last time I’d been inside. At that moment, I doubted anyone had even stepped foot in there.

  I left the suitcase near the entryway of the one-bedroom space and shut the door behind me.

  My old clothes I’d left behind s
till hung in the open closet. Flannel button-ups and spaghetti strap tank tops on the left. Flowy ankle-length skirts and jeans on the right. A row of shoes neatly spanned the floor. My favorite picnic blanket was draped over the foot of the bed, my worn, one-eyed teddy bear perched on the pillows. With the way the rest of the day had gone, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the momster avoided the mother-in-law all together. Out of sight, out of mind. Everything had been preserved, or forgotten, hermetically sealed in a time capsule. The living room space caught my eye. Leather couch with matching chairs. The memories of being in that room attacked me quickly. I bolted for the exit, threading the key into the lock with trembling hands, wondering whether I’d be able to sleep inside without having nightmares.

  I leaned back against the door and closed my eyes, fighting to catch my breath. It was important I regain my composure before I went back inside to Daveigh. After all, there were parts of my history she didn’t need to know about.

  The time had come to put on my own poker face.

  I was out of practice.

  “Okay. I’m ready.” I walked back inside the kitchen with a phony smile plastered on my face. It was one of those moments where you weren’t sure how to let go of the facial expression naturally because it was so forced it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

  “Are you okay?” Daveigh asked.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You look guilty or pained. Constipated maybe? I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “Well, I did drive eleven hours through three states. It’s nothing. Just a long day.” I sighed and was content with the lie I’d scrambled to feed her. Even after two years had gone by, Daveigh still knew when something was wrong. It pissed me off. For being the younger sister, she’d always been the one to be more in tune with Finn’s and my emotions. I felt like that should’ve been my job as their protector.

  “So, if you drove, then where’s your car?” she asked as she closed the front door behind her.

  “It’s across town at Fast Eddie’s,” I replied.

  She turned away from me and shrugged into her jacket. “Oh?”

  “Broke down right down the street from his shop. Beanbag gave me a ride on his way home. Did you know he worked there? Surprised the hell out of me. Figured he’d pursue his acting career or something.”

  “So…Fast. Eddie’s?” She rifled through the set of keys on repeat at breakneck speed before she located the one for the house. It shouldn’t have been rocket science since the ring only occupied four keys.

  “Maybe it’s my turn to ask. Is everything okay with you?” I studied her, our own game of chess growing more complicated as the evening went on.

  “Yeah.” She focused on locking the front door. “It’s just lucky you were so close and weren’t stranded in the middle of nowhere. That’s all.”

  I didn’t believe her explanation, and I knew luck had nothing to do with my life. Karma had a funny way of biting me in the ass. Sarcasm laced my words like a tight corset, but I wasn’t sure whether she noticed. “My days are chock full of horseshoes and four-leaf clovers these days. Better buy a lottery ticket. Quick.”

  “Either way, I’m glad you’re here.” She gave me a slap on the ass as we headed down the porch, the third step from the bottom living up to its reputation with a significant groan. It was clear both of us were making some kind of effort at bridging the gap in our screwed-up relationship.

  We got into Daveigh’s Ford Thunderbird, a gift from Rent-A-Cop Gene, and headed toward The Fill & Spill, less than a mile from the house. She flipped on the radio to a local station that played budding indie artists—my favorite. Anything was better than Beanbag’s lame sauce country tunes. Plus, the break from talking was welcome.

  As we waited at the stoplight across the street from the standalone bar, I looked at the brick building. The substantial crack from a previous earthquake was still as obvious as ever on the lower corner near the entrance. A few bricks near the roofline were still missing too. The blinking neon sign spun slowly high on a pole near the street. Just like the old days. Giant letters displayed a burned-out F, leaving it to read “Ill and Spill” in curvy red font. That? That was new. Knowing some of the terrible bar food they served, the updated name, although unintentional, fit. Someone should’ve really jumped on fixing that. Nothing could beat Boberto’s Burger Bungalow for heartburn though. Hours later, I still paid the price for that decision.

  The small gravel parking lot was nearly full, which was what I’d expect for a Saturday night. There were two activities on the weekends in Steele Falls: drown in the ocean or drown your sorrows. Most people chose the latter. Either way, it was an escape. Few people stood outside in small clusters, smoking cigarettes, gesturing, and laughing. A young couple made out heavily in the corner under the shadows cast by a nearby streetlight. The dumpster overflowing with black trash bags in the background was a nice touch to their romantic moment. Scanning the crowd, I didn’t recognize a single soul. That was enough to make me relax a little.

  We pulled into the lot and parked in one of two remaining spaces. For as many times as I’d been to the dive bar, I felt remarkably like a stranger in my own home town.

  “Hungry?” Daveigh asked.

  “Not really,” I replied. Thinking back to the pile of grease-soaked fries swimming in their respective cardboard boat from earlier in the day left me feeling green when it came to food. “I’ll probably drink my dinner tonight.”

  She glanced at her phone before jamming it into her purse with a scowl. “Me too. My appetite is suddenly gone.”

  I studied my sister from the corner of my eye when she got out of the car and slammed the door. Hard. Staring didn’t give me any answers like I’d hoped. I trailed after Daveigh toward the entrance and bit my lip. Knowing her, if I pushed for information on her mood, I was likely to get even fewer answers. It wasn’t surprising. She was difficult to read, much like me. It was a trait inherited from Mother Elana herself.

  “So, when’s Finn flying in from London?” I asked.

  “Finn?”

  “Finn. Our brother? You said everyone had to be here for the funeral. Remember?”

  “Oh yeah. That.” She adjusted the shoulder strap on her purse. “Can we not talk about the funeral tonight? I’m sure Mommy will give you his flight information tomorrow.”

  More memories came tumbling back as I looked through the frosty window from the outside. The mechanical bull. Goldfish races. Beer pong. The Fill & Spill was where I spent my twenty-first birthday. It was where I first—

  “Hey. You coming or not?” Daveigh snapped her fingers in front of my face as she’d held the door for me.

  “Huh? Yeah.” I blinked quickly.

  “Sometimes, you’re like talking to a freaking doorknob,” she muttered. “And that’s insulting the doorknob.”

  Music funneled through the loudspeakers and was still as loud as I remembered, the hot pink and green-colored wallpaper with gold accents even louder. I grimaced in its ugly glory. Whiffs of stale beer and fried food floated through the air, and it made my stomach flip-flop. I’d forgotten I’d always showered after leaving the bar because everything was tainted with the scent of Marlboro’s and over-cooked chicken tenders.

  I followed in Daveigh’s wake across the room to an open seating area. Barstools with worn wooden tops, their glossy luster faded, were lined around rectangular tables. The top of each one was adorned with half-filled salt and pepper shakers and a messy stack of paper coasters. An olive-colored couch with etched woodwork on the base was perched in the corner with a matching chair cattycorner to it. Both were stained from one too many spilled drinks, and both were the most uncomfortable pieces of furniture I’d ever put my ass on. I was surprised they were still around.

  At the far wall, a woman was seated on one of the stools at a table for six, talking on sp
eaker with her cell phone in one hand and a glass of blush wine perched in the other. She wore a sheer cold-shouldered top with a camisole underneath and black leather pants. It didn’t seem to bother her that she was the only one in the bar who sat alone. Her long red fingernails sparkled under the smoky hue of the pendant light overhead while she examined her manicure against the glass of her drink.

  “Hang on a sec!” Daveigh yelled in my ear.

  I nodded, mindlessly swaying to the beat of the music.

  “Lucy!” Daveigh hollered at the woman to compete with the bass. My sister yelled again and waved enthusiastically. “Over here!”

  The woman spotted my sister a few seconds later and immediately ended her call with a quick goodbye. She stood up and squealed loudly before hugging Daveigh, both of them gushing and tittering at each other. Once again, I felt like I didn’t belong.

  Daveigh must have sensed my feeling of displacement. “Oh! I forgot! You two haven’t met yet. Lucy, this is my older sister, Blue.” She nudged me with her elbow. “Blue, Lucy.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I extended my hand.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you.” She had a strong handshake and a sultry voice. “So sorry to hear about your dad,” she said with a pained look on her face. It reminded me of the consoling look I received when someone heard one of my Cash stories. Any semblance of pity being present tainted genuine concern.

  I almost corrected her and said, “step”, but I didn’t see the point. Lucy didn’t care if Tom was my step-father. I’d likely never see her again, let alone carry on meaningful conversation. The simplest response seemed the most appropriate.

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  “I didn’t know you were back from The Bahamas already.” Daveigh sat on the barstool next to her. “When did you get into town?”

  “It was only a five-day. Got back this morning. Jet lag is a real bitch. Boat lag. Whatevs.”