From The Wreckage - Complete (40 page)

“I’m eighteen now, T. Remember what you said we’d do when we were all eighteen?” Jules smiles and looks up at the sky. “Tattoos, right? I thought you were crazy! No putting a needle near my arm!” She laughs as she remembers their conversation over the summer when Tanya was the first to turn eighteen. “You’d be happy to know that I’ve been contemplating it. I actually have a whole Pinterest board dedicated to them now. You’re obviously haunting me.” A stray tear escapes when she winks.  

“I miss you.” She presses a kiss to her fingertips and touches the grass with her hand. “By the way, I wouldn’t have cared if you loved Carter or Tommy. I’m sorry you didn’t know that…I like to think you actually did know better than to think K and I would care who you dated. If you were happy we’d be happy for you, T -” 

Her cell rings and she answers the call.

“Happy birthday BFF!” Katie sings on the other end; her voice full of cheer. “Are we doing lunch or what?”

Checking the time on the phone, Jules calculates how much time she needs to stop by the Rivera’s house. “Of course! Can we meet around one?”

Katie agrees and Jules dusts her knees off; rising from the ground to make one more stop before lunch.

She feels out of place now when she pulls up at Tanya’s house. She’d played at this house at least once a week almost her entire life. Now she hasn’t been here in six weeks. Everything looks the same as she climbs out of the car and walks up the front walk. The same, and yet different. Wiping her palms down her hips, Jules takes the steps slowly and knocks on the door. Her heart races and her nerves jump around like crazy. 

“Jules!” Raquel’s face beams as she opens the door and pulls her in for a tight hug. “Happy birthday, girl. What are you doing here?”

Jules squeaks out a small “Hi” and hugs Tanya’s older sister back.

“Come in, come in.”

As Jules steps into the house, the familiar scent of cinnamon hits her and she follows Raquel to the den.

“Momma! Come see who’s here, and on her birthday,” Raquel calls.

They sit on the couch, or Raquel sits and Jules perches on the edge. There’s a pall over the house despite Raquel’s cheerful voice. The curtains are closed and there are pictures of Tanya scattered all around, covering the sofa table and the desk in the foyer. 

Raquel asks her a question and Jules stops looking around to focus.

“Sorry, what?”

“School. I was asking how school is going.” 

“Oh, um…it’s school,” she says with a shrug. Raquel laughs softly; reminding Jules how bad she was her senior year.

“It feels so pointless now, doesn’t it? I mean, I know you. You have your acceptance to A&M and you could take an early graduation, couldn’t you?”

The comment surprises Jules. She hasn’t thought about it, but she can. With all of her A.P. classes, she was technically ready to graduate after her junior year. Many of her friends used to give her a hard time about it, and she always pointed out that while they’d all be struggling with stuff senior year, she’d be taking chump courses. Of course Jules has never taken a chump course in her life, but she could if she wanted to. Why hasn’t this even crossed her mind?

“Juliet?” 

Only two people call her by her given name - ever - her mother, when she’s in trouble, and Mrs. Rivera. Spinning on the edge of the couch, Jules spots Mrs. Rivera coming into the den from the back hall. The urge to gasp overwhelms her as she takes in the frail woman before her. Tanya was curvy in a sexy way, genes she’d inherited from her mother, but looking at her today you wouldn’t know it. Her cheeks droop and her eyes are sunken in as they blink at her. Jules stands, makes her way around the couch and lets Mrs. Rivera envelop her in a long hug. She feels fragile under Jules’ fingers and her shirt hangs off of her shoulders. A lump forms in her throat when she hears a small gurgle escape from Tanya’s mother.

“Happy birthday, sweetie.” The words sound forced and harsh, and Jules swallows the lump back down; forcing the emotion into her stomach. She shouldn’t have come. This is too hard…for both of them.

“Thank you.”

“Hey momma,” Raquel’s soft voice speaks next to them. “Jules and I were just talking about school. Why don’t we sit?” Her hand touches her mother’s shoulder and Jules loosens her arms from around Mrs. Rivera’s back. 

“Yes, yes,” she mutters; her normally vibrant voice, vacant now. “Your momma was just here yesterday. She didn’t tell me you’d be stopping by.”

“My mom?” Jules didn’t know her mom stopped by. She never mentioned it to her.

“Yes, bless her.” 

Raquel must see the confusion on her face. “You mother has stopped by here once a week. She brings us the best meals. Doesn’t she, momma?”

Mrs. Rivera nods and taps her finger against her lips; looking deep in thought. They sit there for another fifteen minutes or so, with Raquel asking the bulk of the questions and Jules giving small, single word answers while watching Tanya’s mom. It‘s scary the way she sits there. She seems to be in her own world, not really hearing anything they’re saying. 

“I’ve been cleaning out Tanya’s room.” The statement comes from nowhere and Jules practically jumps at the loud confession. “She had so many things I don’t know what to do with. Maybe you can help me figure it out, Juliet? You and Katie?”

Jules looks at Raquel, who sighs. “Yeah, sure…I think we could plan a day to do that.” She can’t say no.

“Oh! It’s your birthday — come back to her room. Let me give you something.” Mrs. Rivera stands and leaves the room without waiting for Jules to reply.

Self preservation can chime in any time now
, Jules thinks as she rocks on the edge of the blue couch.

“You don’t have to go back,” says Raquel. Her eyes are sparkly with unshed tears. “She’s not right, Jules. She’s lost.”

“I…” Jules stops. She doesn’t know what to say. Getting up, she makes her way back to Tanya’s room, leaving Raquel to her silent tears in the den. She owes Tanya’s mom this much. No matter how hard it will be, she owes her this. She’s the one who lived, after all. Each step towards Tanya’s room feels like a step towards the executioner. Her rapidly beating heart sends all of her blood to her head, making it pound. It’s like she’s in a tunnel and there’s Tanya in front of her; her dark hair flying about her face, her cheerleading skirt flipping up around her hips. She imagines Tanya as she sees her in her nightmares, and she blinks rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

“You’re awake, Jules. You’re awake,” she reminds herself softly.

She rounds the door and stops, frozen, at the entrance. Mrs. Rivera stands in the middle of piles and piles of items. Clothing, pictures, stuffed animals — it looks like everything from every nook and cranny of Tanya’s room has been pulled and laid out for someone to look at. 

Mrs. Rivera bends down and picks up a small pile of clothing. “These things weren’t hers. Will you take them?”

Jules stands there in shock as she recognizes a blue sweater in the pile as one of hers. Tanya borrowed it last winter and had never given it back.

“Somewhere around here, there’s that bear you gave her for her birthday. I think you should have it.” She looks around, still clutching the clothing to her chest. “Ah, there it is. On the bed.”

Jules spots the fuzzy black bear with a silly tutu on. It was a joke in reference to their one year of ballet as kids. She looks at Mrs. Rivera and asks tentatively, “Are you sure you want me to have it?”

“Yes, yes, hun. You gave it to her.”

Jules tiptoes gingerly around the items on the floor to reach the bear on the bed. There’s a small space on the bed, just large enough for someone to lie on, and Jules notes the pillow with the imprint of a head. She brings the bear to her face and uses it to wipe a tear away as she smells Tanya’s strong perfume on it. She pictures her mother sleeping in this room with the sight and smell of everything that was once Tanya surrounding her. 

“Will you take these?” She holds the clothes out to Jules again.

“We don’t have to do this today. I can get Katie to come back in a few weeks and we’ll-”

“Take them!” Mrs. Rivera shouts unexpectedly; interrupting Jules’ soft voice. “Take them. They’re not Tanya’s. I want them out of this room.”

“I…” Jules steps forward cautiously.

“Please get them out…get them out!” Mrs. Rivera breaks down and tears stream down her face as she thrusts the clothing into Jules’ hands. “They don’t belong to her…this is
her
room,” she mutters softly.

“Momma,” Raquel warns; flying up behind Jules. 

“This is Tanya’s room. These are her things, those are not. I just want them out of here.”

“Of course I’ll take them. I need to go, but I’ll take them,” Jules repeats the words and backs out as Raquel grasps her mother’s hands. Jules pauses at the doorway to hear the low, soothing tone Raquel uses on Mrs. Rivera. They sink to the floor slowly and Tanya’s mom shakes her head as Raquel strokes her hair.

Jules turns to flee the house as quickly as she can. Just as she steps into the bright sunlight, the door opens back up behind her.

“I’m so sorry, Jules. She’s having a lot of trouble dealing with it all. I…”

Jules shakes her head. “Don’t. Don’t apologize Raquel, I get it. I’m sorry,” she offers in return and spins on her heel in a hurry to get to her car. Throwing the clothes and bear in the seat next to her, Jules sniffs back tears as she starts the engine and pulls out of the driveway quickly. She flies down the street; her vision blurring with unshed tears and her throat on fire from holding it all back. 

A car horn blares and Jules looks up in time to slam on her breaks. 

“Oh God!” she cries. She’s driving so fast she didn’t even see the car backing up into the street. Her hands shake as she waits for the car to finish and pull away. Placing her foot on the gas, she pulls around the corner and comes to a stop in front of a small white house with a cute little picket fence, where she proceeds to break down. The deluge of tears course down her face and her chest aches at the heavy sobs forcing their way out. She looks to the right, picks up the black bear and buries her face in its soft fur.

 

“I sat in my car and cried for a good twenty minutes before I could pull myself together enough to call West. I’m not proud of that. I’m not proud that every time I fall apart, I call on West. I didn’t even notice it back then, but I realize it now. I called him, and typical West, he picked up in the middle of a crowded stadium; his voice barely audible over the background noise.

The moment I heard the noise I felt horrible. I couldn’t cry to him, and I didn’t want to bring his day down. Instead I gave him my best cheerleading-excitement voice and told him I just wanted to say I love you. He laughed through the line, repeated my words back to me and wished me a happy birthday, and then promised to call me later that night. It’s funny though, because those few words from him helped. They carried me all the way through lunch, dinner and through to the next day, when he stopped by and held me tightly as we sat in my old playset in the backyard.

“Just a touch or a word from West and I instantly calmed down. It’s scary letting someone have that much power over you. I didn’t do it intentionally; it just sort of happened. Plus, I trusted him. I trusted he would take care of my heart and my love, so I gave him everything.”