Love You Always

Love You Always

By Terra Lorin

…

© Copyright 2013

All rights reserved.

© Copyright Photo by kiuikson

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons or situations is purely coincidental.

.

~* Laura *~

As I look through my box of photos, my eyes well up with tears as I hold in front of me, the one of my brother Spence when he was five years old. He looks so cute in his cowboy outfit, drawing his toy pistols as if he were having a showdown with nasty outlaws.

How I miss him.

My heart aches as though squeezed like an orange of its juices every time I think about his tragic death.

He was too young to die, especially by his own hand. I’ve racked my brain wondering why he would do such a thing—to end his life so suddenly. What happened to make him so unhappy and to be in such turmoil that at thirteen, he had no desire to live anymore?

I just can’t understand it.

I wipe the teardrops that fall on his photo, but as soon as I do, more fall from my eyes. I return the photo back into the box and take another one out of my sister Jade.

For some reason, I feel that Jade knows something about why Spence killed himself, she was closer to him than I was, but she’s so far gone in her own shit that I can’t talk to her anymore—she’s out of control and unreachable. But I give her some slack because she was the one who found him that day, and witnessed the horror of it, all the blood in the bathtub, his wrists sliced open—at least that’s what the police told me.

I imagine it would’ve messed me up too, had I been the one to find him like that. By the time I got home, the ambulance was carting my baby brother’s body away. I remember the shock that surged through me, followed by numbness—everything turned surreal. I could hear what was being said to me, yet as though my spirit had left my body, the sounds seemed distant.

That was two years ago, yet I haven’t put him to rest because the unanswered questions haunt me. I imagine I’m going through the same thing a person does when their loved one goes missing and they don’t know whether they’re dead or alive. The unanswered questions are causing my grief to linger, leaving me unresolved in my acceptance to move on completely from it. I don’t let my brother’s death consume me—no one can tell I’m dealing with this tragedy in my life—but it hovers over me in my subconscious like a dark cloud.

Maybe someday I’ll know the answers to some of the questions—if Jade opens up to me—or maybe I’ll never know.

My cell phone rings.

“Hi, Jules, what’s up?”

Jules and I have been best friends since the fifth grade.

“Hey there, girl.”

I hear cursing and clanging in the background.

“What the hell is all that racket?” I ask.

“That’s Pete trying to fix Sadie. Damn, I knew I should’ve just taken her to a professional, but he said he’d take a look at her and now this project has turned into a nightmare.” She lets out a sigh. “But I shouldn’t complain. He meant well and was trying to save me a few hundred bucks.”

Pete is Jules’ older brother.

“Does he know how to fix whatever is ailing Sadie?”

“He found a video on YouTube and is following that. It’s amazing how people make videos for all sorts of things. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s one for delivering a baby.”

Before I can reply, she continues, “But hey, I didn’t call to talk about my sorry ass car. I have something that might interest you.”

Poor Jules. She’s been having major issues with Sadie for a while now, but she’s so attached to that bucket of bones, she doesn’t want to give her up. She treats Sadie like a pet.

“I’m all ears,” I say and don’t protest about her changing the subject, because quite frankly, hearing more about her sorry ass car isn’t all that exciting.

“I just got a call from my friend Rusty and thought of you. A friend of his is looking to hire a companion for his sister. Seems she’s got some sort of disorder and can’t leave the house. The guy is needing to go out-of-town on business for two weeks and needs someone to stay with her while he’s gone.”

“Hmm, I’m never sister-sat before.”

Jules laughs. “Yeah, me neither.”

“How old is she?” I ask.

“I don’t know, he didn’t say, and I didn’t even think to ask. He did say he wants someone between the ages of 20 to 25, and since he used the word ‘companion,’ I figure she might be around our age.”

“When you said she can’t leave the house . . . is she a paraplegic?”

“Rusty said a trauma triggered her condition and she gets panic attacks if she leaves the house. He told me what it was called, but I can’t remember it now.”

“Ah. She has agoraphobia,” I tell her.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Why aren’t
you
taking the job?” I ask.

“Because I’m full up to my eyeballs already with my own crap, especially now that Sadie is out of commission. And quite frankly, sister, I don’t wanna be no babysitter. You know me, I’ve got no patience and I’d probably tie her up and drag her ass outside to make her confront whatever ails her, and then I’d probably get sued, or my ass hauled off to jail.”

I have to laugh, because that is Jules. She would do something like that. She’s one of the gutsiest and tell-it-like-it-is women I know, but her traits don’t always work in her favor, unfortunately.

“Jules, agoraphobia takes psychotherapy and even medication for some people to get over. Just hauling her outside of the house won’t cure her.”

“Well, that’s why I can’t deal with a job like that. I’d be going barbarian on her in no time.”

“Yeah, you best stick to jobs where the clients can handle being browbeaten,” I tease her.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” There’s a pause. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

“Yes, actually you are, but I still loves ya, sweetie,” I tell her with a smile she can’t see.

“Yeah, well, you might be the only person who does, ha! Okay, enough about me. You interested in this job?”

“Yeah, sure, who do I call?”

“I knew you’d want to take it. This is right up your alley since you’re so good with people.”

“Not all people. I sure didn’t know how to handle Keith.”

“Keith is an asshole. You shouldn’t blame yourself for what went wrong with the two of you. I’m just glad you came to your senses and got out when you did.”

I don’t want to talk about Keith.

“Okay, so give me the number to call.”

After I hang up with Jules, I ponder whether I should take this job or not. It does sound interesting, and a change of scenery would do me good, so why not? Also, I could use the money, especially since the restaurant where I normally work part-time at while I’m on semester breaks is closed for renovation.

I punch in the number Jules gave me.

“Hello?” a deep male voice answers.

“Hi, I’m calling about your job position. A friend of mine referred me.”

He clears his throat.

“Okay, great. What’s your name?” His voice sounds sexy. I wonder what he looks like.

“Laura Walker.”

He repeats it slowly as though he’s writing it down on a piece of paper, which he probably is.

“How old are you, Laura?”

“I’m twenty-one.”

“Did Rusty tell you all the details?”

“Umm, well, no, my friend Jules actually passed on the message to me. Rusty had called her and she called me.”

“Ah, I see, but you do know what the job entails, right?”

“Yes, I think so. You need someone to babysit . . . I mean . . . stay with your sister while you’re away on a business trip.” Oh shit, ‘babysit’ slipped out without my thinking.

He laughs. “My sister’s not quite a baby, she’s twenty, and she functions as normally as any twenty year old as long as she doesn’t leave the house. You won’t have to worry about her throwing tantrums or anything.” I sense he’s smiling on the other end of the line, since he found my faux pas humorous.

“Besides keeping her company, is there anything else I’ll need to do?”

“I’ll pretty much stock the food and supplies so you shouldn’t have to go shopping unless you want something that’s not on-hand, but you may need to run errands, if my sister needs something.”

“I can do that, that’s no problem.”

“Great. Can you come over tomorrow for an interview? My sister will have to meet you and she may want to ask you a few questions.”

“Sure. What time should I be there?”

“How about eleven o’clock?”

“That sounds fine.”

“Give me your email address and I’ll send you our address and map.”

I give him the information he needs and we hang up. I liked his tone of voice; he sounds like a nice guy. I just hope his sister’s as pleasant. I wonder what happened to her that caused her agoraphobia. I can’t imagine being cooped up in the house day in and day out, never being able to venture outside. Trauma affects people in so many different ways.

Although Jade didn’t become agoraphobic, her trauma after Spence’s death caused her to change. She was never as rebellious and wild as she is now. I worry about her a lot, but I don’t know how to help her. I told Dad she needs some kind of counseling, but he doesn’t seem to be as concerned about her as I am. He says she’s just going through her adolescent stage. Well, I don’t think it’s that simple. Her change happened too coincidentally after Spence died, so I know there’s more to it than teenage hormones. She was fifteen then and two years later she’s not come out of it, in fact, with every year that passes, she seems to get worse. She rebels against everything my dad or I say and she acts promiscuous as hell. Whether she’s doing anything, I can’t say, she tells me to mind my own business. Talking to her is just impossible anymore.

But I don’t give up on her because she’s my sister and I love her. I don’t want to see her self-destruct, which seems to be the path she’s going down. It’s only a matter of time before she gets herself into some kind of trouble, and I fear for her.

I pick up another photo of Jade. This one is when she was ten. What a ham she was in front of the camera. I miss that Jade, the happy and carefree little girl who posed comically and made us laugh.

Tears once again well my eyes as I realize . . . that Jade is no more. That Jade left when Spence left. And I wasn’t here for her.

~* Marcus *~

“What did you think about that woman?” I ask my sister, turning to face her as I sit next to her on the sofa.

“Hmm, I don’t think so. Having her pet porcupine walking around here is just not going to work for me.”

“Yeah, I don’t imagine you’ll want to be worrying about your every step.”

“Not to mention, where I sit!” she exclaims.

Her comical expression makes me laugh.

“Okay, the next interview is at eleven, so we’ve got about a half-hour before she arrives.”

“When are you flying out?”

“Friday.”

Angela looks at me with a sad face. “That’s in two days.”

I put my hand on hers as it sits on her lap. “I’ll only be gone for two weeks. The days will fly by in no time.”

Angela has become so dependent on me ever since that tragic day. I’ve tried to bring in a psychotherapist several times, but after a few sessions, she refuses to see them anymore. Medication hasn’t seemed to help much either, so that’s been scrapped as well. I’m not sure how else to help her. Her cure is only going to come from her willingness to be helped, so unless she wants to be cured badly enough, things are going to stay this way for her—and for me.

As fast as she frowned, she puts on a smile as if to convey that she’ll be all right. I’m sure that gesture is for me, to ease my worry about her, rather than for her own comfort. I know she feels bad about the burden she’s become, and I try to convince her that she’s not a burden, but she doesn’t believe me, and it hurts me to see her in this way, to see her helpless in her disorder and her feeling guilty for it.

She’s all I’ve got left of my family. Without her, my life would be an empty shell. In some ways, my saving her—saved me. She doesn’t realize how much more screwed up I would’ve been had I lost her too, that day. Had I alone survived, sadness and grief would fill my days, and I’d probably be drowning my sorrows in booze.

Angela is my reminder that life must go on, and I do my best to hide my pain, the pain of my brother David, and the guilt that consumes me regarding him.

“You okay?” Angela squeezes my hand, snapping me out of my daydreaming.

I look at her and smile. “Yes.”

“Well, I’m going to my room until that eleven o’clock appointment arrives,” my sis says.

“Okay.”

I watch her leave the living room, and my heart is full of love for her as I stare at her dark brown hair cascading mid-length down her back. Although she’s a grown woman, I still think of her as my little sister, the girl who used to follow me around when I was a teenager, prompting me to make her laugh, and who ran to me for protection when David would tease and taunt her.

I smile when I think of those happier days, when we were a whole family. We were very close, and I miss my parents and my kid brother so much it hurts to think about them.