You're Gone: A Short Story

Once again it's that time of month...September and a new short story challenege. Have I ever said how much I absolutely love these challeneges? Probly..lol but in case you missed it. I freaking love them. You get the chance to come up with something on the fly, or add to a little something you've already started and because last month's piece was intriguing (at least to me) I made this months submission a continuation of last month's. And have I said how much I love to write? I don't care if I suck at it, it gives me great pleasure..so :P lol.

So without further ado...my piece for The Written Voice's September Short Story Challenge:

Lead Me On:
You're Gone

It brought tears to my eyes when I heard the news.

I never thought, not in a million years that Chase would kill himself. I set the phone down and started at it. I don’t know how long I sat there, but it must have been a while. Robert came home, setting his briefcase down on the roll top desk.

“Faith?” he called.

I sat at the kitchen table staring at the phone. I hadn’t even hung it up. It made that irritating busy signal, but it had stopped hours ago. I was numb inside. I couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it. There was no way that one of my best and oldest friends, the true love of my life, was dead.
Robert came into the kitchen and saw me sitting at the table, eyes red and puffy, expression frozen in shock.

“Faith what happened? Are you okay?” he grabbed the phone and hung it up. “Hey,” he said softly sliding his index finger under my chin and raising my face to look at him. “Faith, honey, what happened?”

“Chase,” I whimpered.

“What happened to Chase?” Robert prodded.

“Chase, he, oh god, Robert,” I threw my arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. The front door opened again and Dylan, Robert's partner, came in.

“Rob? Faith? You guys here?”

“We’re in here Dylan,” Robert called softly over my shoulder. Dylan came to the doorway and stared at the two of us.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice panicked.

“It’s Chase,” Robert said.

I sobbed, feeling as if a knife had been plunged straight into my heart. That was all Dylan needed to hear. He knelt down and wrapped his arms around me.

“Oh sweetheart,” he cooed in my ear. “It’ll be okay.”

“No Dill, it won’t. I won’t ever be okay again.”

With that I broke down. Dylan stood and scooped me up. Robert led the way up the stairs to my room, turning on lights as he went. Dylan followed him into my room and laid me down on the bed.

“Faith, what happened?” he asked softly. “What happened to Chase?”

Robert stood in the doorway, quietly detached from the situation. He didn’t know Chase like Dylan and I did. I clutched a pillow to my chest and sobbed loudly into it.

He sat there quietly rubbing my back for a few minutes, then pulled the blankets over me and went down stairs. I could hear him and Robert quietly conversing in the kitchen, then the beeping of the phone as numbers were pressed.

I lay there listening to Dylan talk to whoever he called. I quickly figured out it was Janelle. I didn’t know why he would call her. We hadn’t talked to her in over three years; ever since her very public, “Faith has never been there for me” speech.

I was surprised when the phone rang this afternoon and her name and out of state phone number popped up on my caller ID. I hadn’t been pleasant when I answered.

“Hello?” I snapped.

“Hi Faith, it’s me; it’s Janelle.” I should have known something was wrong that very second. Her
voice sounded wounded and in pain, but I was too blinded by hatred to see past the past.

“What do you want?” I snarled.

“I have some bad news Faith,” she replied softly.

“Oh let me guess, you’ve managed to find another oh so important date that I wasn’t there for? Are you calling to schedule another public humiliation?”

“Shut up Faith. Sit your uppity ass down and shut the hell up,” Janelle snapped.
I fought to find a vicious enough retort, but she kept on before I had the chance to fire back. “It’s about Chase,” she said.

“What about Chase?” I demanded.

“He’s gone Faith. He, oh good Lord in heaven help me be strong right now,” she begged, “Chase took his own life last night. He passed away.”

“No,” I said, stunned. “No, you’re lying. I just talked to Chase. I just talked to him the other day. You’re lying Janelle. I don’t believe you. Oh my god why are you calling me and telling me these lies. Are you that spiteful, that evil? Oh my- don’t ever, do you hear me, don’t ever call me again.”

I hung up the phone and flung it onto the table, staring at it. I jumped as the shrill ring echoed off the kitchen walls. I’m not answering it, I told myself. I’m not. It’s probably Janelle again, trying to think of a new way to deliver her old hate.

The phone stopped ringing for a few seconds, then started ringing again.

Oh just see who it is, my mind urged.

I reached across the table and grabbed the phone, dragging it towards me. Once it was close enough I flipped it and glanced at the illuminated caller ID. It was Chase’s sister.

“Hello?” I said timidly.

“Hi Faith, its Barb. Did Janelle get a hold of you?” Barb asked.

I whimpered. “Oh no. No, no, no. No Barb, no. Don’t say it. Tell me it’s not true.”

“Faithy, shh, sweetheart. Calm down.” I could hear Barb crying in the background.

“No Barb. Not until you tell me that it’s a lie; that its one of Chase’s asinine practical jokes. Oh God, tell me this isn’t happening.”

“It is Faith. It happened. Chase is gone, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Dylan came back upstairs and lay down beside me. “I can’t believe he’s gone,” he murmured.

“Dill pickle, what – how? What do I do know?”

Dylan ran his hand over my back. “Oh sweetheart, I don’t know. I don’t know where to go from here.”

* * *

Three days passed then on the fourth day Dylan and Robert drug me out of bed and made me dress for Chase’s funeral. I was sitting at my vanity table staring at my ashen reflection, a tube of lipstick in my hand.

I sat there numbly wondering what I was doing with the tube of lipstick. It didn’t matter. No amount of makeup was going to make me look better. I tried to shake myself out of the stupor and focus on my blotchy reflection in the mirror. No matter how much concealer I packed under my eyes, they were still red and puffy.

Thank God for water-proof mascara, I thought cynically. That’s how it was lately; cynicism and tears. And I didn’t care who was sick of it, though I was pretty sure Jesse had about had enough.

Speak of the devil, Jesse appeared in the doorway. I glanced at his reflection in the mirror then turned back to the tube of lipstick I’d been about to apply.

“Faith,” he said softly. I focused on my appearance, choosing to ignore him in the vain hope that if I did, he, this day, would magically go away. I’d have no such luck.

“Faith it’s time to go.”

I blotted my lips and turned my eyes to glance at him, but Jesse had already left the room.

“Okay,” I whispered to my reflection and twisted the blood red lipstick back into its tube.

The beige carpet muffled the click of my heels and the muted blue walls strangled the sound of my tears that lurked just below the surface always threatening to spill.

In the living room Jesse was waiting. I snatched my jacket out his offering hands and stalked out the front door, into the snow and shivered.

Why was he even here? I wondered. I didn’t ask him to come; I didn’t even want him with me today. Since the day Robert called him to tell him what happened he’d been smothering me. I could hardly breathe with all the words I wanted to, yet never did, say to him.

Instead, I climbed into the passenger seat and stared out the window. Jesse got in and started the car. The Jaguars engine purred to life and the car reversed down the driveway.

I closed my eyes, willing this all away; desperately wishing that when I opened my eyes again it would all turn out to be a cruel joke, or a nightmare of the harshest variety.

I couldn’t do this, could I? Could I really stand up in front of Chase’s closest friends and family and say nice things about him?

Of course you can, I told myself. You were his best friend, the one who knew him best. If you don’t do it who will? One of his brothers, cause, yeah that would work so well. Pothead Craig or stick up his ass Brian.

I sighed. I guess it was up to me. Fresh tears welled up in my eyes. In the driver’s seat Jesse sighed. I sniffed and dabbed my eyes with the wad of tissue I dug out of my coat pocket.

Jesse passed the high school where Chase and I graduated so many years ago. And this, of course, brought more tears to my eyes. I closed them and let the hot tears stream down my face.

Fifteen minutes later, Jesse pulled the car into the parking lot of the funeral home. My heart leapt into my throat and I gasped for air.

Who was I kidding? I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t walk in there and stare at my friend lying cold and motionless in some glossy, plush casket. Chase never sat still. It just wasn’t something that he did, not because he couldn’t; but because he hated sitting still.

Chase was the kind of person who wasn’t happy unless he was doing something. Even if it was something trivial; twitching a finger or picking his nails; something on him was always in motion.
Jesse came around the front of the Jaguar and opened the passenger door. I froze, unable to get out of the car.

“Faith, please; I know this is hard and that you’d rather be anywhere but here, but you promised you would deliver the eulogy. Now, come on baby, give me your hand and let me help you through this.”

Jesse stuck his hand into the car and held it there. I glanced at it for a second then took a hold of it and allowed myself to be helped out of the car.

A group of solemn men in dark suits passed up. The shortest one nodded at me, Brian. He was part of our “group” back in high school and as far as I knew, he hadn’t talked to Chase since the second time Chase went back to jail; when he crashed my brand new BMW into a tree after he decided to get high and fly around a curve doing twenty miles over the posted speed limit.

The thought of my totaled BMW still made me bitter, but he was dead now; not much left I could do about it.

Gripping Jesse’s arm, I trailed slightly behind him and we entered the funeral home. Hushed music flowed out of discreetly placed speakers in the foyer and the lambent light glowed, giving a soft hue to the cream walls.

I signed the guest book and shuffled further into the grief. All these faces from the past floated by me; faces that I hadn’t seen since the summer after high school. People who didn’t want anything to do with Chase when he was at his worst and yet here they all were. It made me want to shake them and scream in their faces and demand answers to questions I knew I’d never utter.

It pissed me off, and then I got pissed off at myself for being pissed off. I was stuck on some sick cycle carousel.

Janelle came toward me; her arms open like she was going to hug me. I took a step to the left and her arms closed around empty air.

“Faith,” she sobbed turning toward me.

“Janelle,” I replied frostily.

Of all the people on the list of ‘those who should not attend Chase’s funeral,’ Janelle was at the top of the list. But I won’t go into that now, because right now all I can see, all I can hear, are people crying. Everywhere I look I see women crying into delicate hankies and men standing with their hands shoved in their pockets, unsure if it’s okay to cry or if they need to be strong for their wives, mothers, sisters and friends.

It’s all too much and I can’t take it so I run. I run away from Jesse and my mom, away from Dylan and Robert, from Janelle the evil bitch. Away from Chase and the past; away from my own regrets.

I run, and I do not look back.


Copyright 2009 by Elizabeth James as Common Law Literary Property.

Lead Me On: An addition to the short story

Have you ever tried to think about how something began? You travel backwards through the memories, reliving every single one, but once you get to a certain point the memories become hazy and its hard to remember accurate details.

That's how my relationship with Chase was. We met in high school, I know that much for sure; but anything beyond that is beyond me. I can remember my life before Chase, and then my life after. And life after was anything but ordinary.

There was this group of people that I knew back when I was in high school. I wouldn’t say I was part of the group, I was more a part of the fringe, the pretty decoration just outside of the loop; the one person everyone saw but no one really paid attention to; but I was okay with that as pathetic as it sounds.

Chase was part of that group and somehow we hit it off. He was like a pesky big brother; always teasing me or pulling my hair or making fun of the skirt I'd worn that day. I know it sounds cruel, but it didn't bother me. I just saw it as his way of being nice.

Back in those days he never did anything to hurt me; well not intentionally at least. That was one of the things I loved the most about him. Chase would rather die than hurt me.

Eventually all good things must come to an end and my friendship with Chase was one of those things that eventually came to an end.

Actually that's an understatement. Our friendship came to a screeching halt one sultry summer afternoon.

My mom was at work and I was babysitting my younger brother and sister when the phone rang. I answered it with a harried "Hello?" then began screaming at my brother T.J. He'd taken a box of animal crackers from my sister Lynn and she was screaming and hitting him.

"Faith?" a male voice questioned.

"Yeah, who's this?" I asked, snatching to box of animal crackers from T.J.'s grasp.

"It’s Chase. Are you having a good summer?"

"Chase, is there something you wanted? I'm kinda in the middle of trying to keep my brother and sister from killing each other over a box of stupid ass animal crackers."

"Well, I wanted to ask you something, but I can call you back later if you want."

"No Chase, it’s okay. What's up?"

"Are you doing anything this weekend?"

"Yeah, babysitting my stupid kid brother and sister. And I'm still grounded for sneaking out last week. Why?"

"Oh, well never mind then. I can't believe your mom freaked out like that. What's her problem?"

"I dunno."

Lynn started screaming at T.J. yelling at him to give her back her Barbie. "Chase, listen, I'm sorry, but I have to go. Can I call you later?"

"Yeah sure Faith. Don't kill your brother and sister okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Bye."

"Bye."

Later that night, after my mom had come home, exhausted and grouchy from her crappy job, I snuck off to my room with the phone and called my then best friend, Janelle.

She answered the phone with a prim hello. Janelle and I were as different as two people could be. I was the product of a weak mother and an alcoholic father, who’d left us right after Lynn was born.

Janelle on the other hand was born with a nice, bright Else Peretti Padova silver spoon in her mouth.

Well not necessarily, but her home life was a helluva lot better than mine. Her father was an officer in the Marine Corp, her mother was something akin to Susie Homemaker; she wore these crazy floral dresses, had the 50’s curls going on. She even wore a strand of freshwater pearls.

“Chase called me today,” I told her.

“I know he did,” she said snobbily. “I’m the one who gave him your number.”

“Oh, well thanks I guess.”

“Did he call you?” she asked.

“Yeah, right in the middle or World War three. He never really got to the point.”

“He said he wanted to ask you out,” Janelle informed me.

“Oh.” Damn, damn, damn. I should have known that. “He just asked me what I was doing Friday. I told him I had to babysit the mutants. That and I’m still grounded.”

“Your mom is still being a bitch about the beach?”

“Yeah. What the hell else is new? She acts like the world is going to end if I act like a fourteen year old. I swear to god Janelle, the second I turn eighteen I am so gone. My mom, this town, all of it can kiss my ass.”

Janelle snorted. “heard it all before Faith. We still have four years until we turn eighteen so just relax. Now, back to Chase; call him and see if you guys can go out another time. What’s the big deal?”

I shrugged.

“I can’t see you shrugging Faith,” Janelle said sarcastically. “Listen hang up and call the boy back. I swear if you don’t you will live to regret this everyday for the rest of your life.”

Oh how those words haunted me. I didn’t call Chase back. I started to, six times. But each time I chickened out and hung up. Then my mother came barging in wanting to know why T.J. and Lynn were all bruised up.

I shrugged and then explained the animal cracker fiasco. Of course I was blamed for not watching them better, and of course she added three more days to my punishment. It wasn’t fair, and we both knew it.

“I hate you!” I screamed at her and kicked the wall after my mother had stormed out of the room. “I hope you die!”

Of course I didn’t really mean that, and I didn’t really hope she’d die. But hate her? You bet your sweet ass I did. I got blamed for everything; from the red sock getting thrown into the load of white laundry to my father leaving.

But this isn’t about my mom, or her lack of general parenting skills. So back to the point.
It took me three days to get a hold of Chase. It was summer vacation and he, as well as everyone else from the group, was busy spending their days on the beach while I was trapped at home with a ten year old brother and eight year old sister. And by the time I finally got a hold of him, he’d already set his sights on someone else.

I didn’t realize how much it would hurt until I came face to face with it. Hell, I didn’t even realize I liked him until it smacked me in the face. I tried, futilely, over the summer to get him to go out with me all to no avail.

I became angry. Angry at Chase, angry at Lena Henley, the new girl he was dating, angry at the group, angry at my mom and siblings and I lashed out.

Any time I saw Chase I was always nasty to him; I’d make nasty comments and just be rude. It didn’t help that I had to see him every day during lunch, all hugging and kissing on Lena Henley. I wanted to snatch that bitch by the hair and punch her face in.

Sophomore year passed in a flurry of bad Backstreet Boys songs and eventually my anger at Chase faded and he went back to being my buddy.

That summer the care of my brother and sister was left to my mother’s new boyfriend, Adam. Adam was a lazy douche bag alcoholic asshole, but my mother thought he possessed some loving characteristic so she kept him around.

I was free to be a teenager; at least for the time being. And once again all was right with the world.

Copyright 2009 by Elizabeth James as Common Law Literary Property.

Lead Me On: A Short Story

A writing group I belong to has story starter challenges every month. Basically you get six options, and you pick one and it has to be the opening line of your short story. I like them because it challenges you to think on a whim and run with someone elses idea. Here is my story for the August challenge.

Just a word of caution, its about a totaled BMW Z4 (cue the angels) and drug use. So if those two things offend you; walk away now :) If not...carry on reading...and those of you who do read, I love ya for it ;) And now, without further ado I give you the August Short Story Challenge entry "Lead Me On"

Lead Me On

Friends to the bitter end, she had told me so long ago. But would she feel the same after I tell her that I just wrecked her new BMW?

I rubbed my bloody forehead and stared at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My hazel eyes seemed to be mocking me. I scowled at myself and tore the mirror off the windshield. What did it matter anymore, the car was wrecked. I doubted Faith would even care.

Oh no, she's going to care, I thought as the authoritative cry of a police siren whooped behind me. The cruiser door opened and a hard nosed cop eased his way out of the car, clipboard in hand. I slammed my hands on the steering wheel. This was it, I knew it was. The end of free life and the beginning of a possible very long jail sentence; damn drugs, I hated Heather with a fiery passion for ever getting me hooked on heroine. And in that moment I hated Faith for trusting me so much with her brand new BMW. Why did she have to be so in love with me. It made the fiend in me manipulate her; mostly because I knew I could.

God this was going to kill her. In my rare moments of clarity I could see how in love with me she was; how much she hoped she could help change me; make me a better person. Make me the person I was back then. But no one could help me; no one could change me. I was a junkie through and through and even I hated who I was and what I had become.

The cocky officer approached the vehicle. I could see the smirk on his face and I wanted nothing more

than to pummel his face. "Afternoon, sir," he smirked.

I said nothing choosing to stare at the mangled front end of the beautiful blue Z4. The black leather seats were as soft as butter and Faith had spared no expense in customizing her car to her liking. The car was classic Faith and I had ruined in the blink of an eye. Well more like the sniff of a line.

An ambulance came screaming around the bend in the road and the paramedics jumped out, rushing toward the maimed wreck of Roadster. "Easy boys. He's fine," the cop called to the paramedics. To me he said, "Can I see your license and registration please."

I fiddled in the glove box for Faith's registration. She had so much stuff crammed in there I had a hard time finding it. "Today please," the officers said he shifted agitatedly from one foot to another. I slammed the glove box shut and riffled through some papers in the center console. I glanced up at the expectant cop.

"I can't find the registration."

He scowled, "Why not? This is your car is it not?"

Bastard already knew the answer to that. "No, it's my frie-girlfriends car," I explained.

"Alright, slowly get out of the car," the officer instructed.

I unclipped my seat belt and slowly opened the door and stepped out. The vial I kept my junk in fell onto the side of the road. The rocks bounced against one another and it hit the pavement. The cop's eyes bugged as if he'd just caught Santa Claus boinking mommy on the couch while daddy slept soundly in the bedroom down the hall.

"Well, well, well what do we have here?" he asked hooking his fingers into his belt loops and rocking back on his heels.

A probation violation times two, I thought to myself. To the cop I said, "That ain't mine."

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "You junkies really need to come up with a better line. "It ain't mine" is the oldest one in the books. Turn around and place your hands on the trunk."

Embarrassed I turned and "assumed the position." Faith was really going to kill me when she found out. I wondered if there was any way to hide this from her. I shook my head slightly. Of course there wasn't. Her car was totaled and I was going to jail. Again.

The cop frisked me, handcuffed me and shoved me into the back of a squad car. More cops arrived along with a tow truck and the ambulance left. I sat in the back of the stale car staring at the scene before me.

Faith

Have I ever told you how much I hate, and I mean hate with a fiery passion, the sound of the ringing phone? No, probably not. In case you missed it, I hate the phone. Especially mine. Whenever it rings someone is always calling with bad news. Today was no exception.

I'd been sitting at the kitchen table reading the day's news paper when the phone rang. I thought about ignoring it, but I figured it might be Chase. I let him take my car out for a spin hours ago and he still wasn't back yet. I was beginning to worry. I picked up the receiver and was greeted by the tinny, recorded voice of the operator announcing she had a collect call from the district jail. I accepted the charges.

"Damnit Chase, what did you do?" I demanded. I swear if he hurt my car I would kill him.

"Faith, I need you to sit down and take a deep breath. And try not to get too mad, okay?"

"Chase Randolph Harris if you don't tell me this fregging second what happened - "

"I wrecked your car," he said, cutting me off.

"YOU DID WHAT!?" I screamed.

"I'm sorry, it was an accident. I was, um, I uh, there was a curve in the road. I was going to fast and I lost control of the car and crashed into a tree."

"My - how could - oh my God, tell me your kidding," I sputtered in disbelief.

"Faith I wish I was. I'm so sorry."

"Chase that was my brand new car, my brand spanking new Roadster Z4. And you wrecked it!"

"I'm sorry Faith," Chase apologized.

"Stop apologizing," I ordered him.

"Faith there's more," Chase said.

I groaned. "It's totaled isn't it?"

"Yeah, but that's not it."

"What else?" I asked completely unsure if I wanted to know the rest.

Chase made a funny noise into the phone, static crackled over the line. "Chase?"

"I'm still here. Look, Faith, they're telling me I have to get off the phone now."

"They who?"

"The guards," Chase replied.

"Chase why are you in jail?"

"Faith I gotta go. Come see me and I'll explain it all."

The phone went dead. I held it in my hand staring at it. Chase wrecked my car. Chase said he was going to fast around the curve. Chase was in jail.

Then the realization hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. Chase had lied.

Chase was using again.

Copyright 2009 by Elizabeth James as Common Law Literary Property.