Incomplete (19 page)

“Let’s say you keep your twenty and not bother.” I get three guys beers, take their money, and give them their change.

With a dramatic sigh, she drapes herself across the bar, the silver sequins of her halter dress sparkling under the lights. “You’re no fun anymore.”

I grab the broom and begin to forcefully sweep the floor. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“No you’re not and what did the floor ever do to you?”

“Way to be original. Don’t you have something to do?” I snap, raising my eyes to glare at her. “Like, wait on customers or something? You know,
work
?”

With a pout, she straightens and tosses her long hair back. Hands on hips, she stares me down—and stares and stares.

When I can’t take it anymore I slam the broom against the floor. “
What?
”

Crossing the short expanse of space behind the bar, Ana only stops when we’re nose to nose. She’s tall in those heels. “If you don’t sing tonight, I’m going to be like this...
forever
. And I can be ‘cause my parents own the place. I can work as much as I want, or as little as I want.” She smirks.

“Why is this so important to you? Why tonight?”

She stares at me for a long time, her expression thoughtful. “Just trust me, Grayson. You’ll thank me some day.”

Her words are reminiscent of Lily’s, and like Lily’s, I doubt it. I rub my forehead,
knowing she means what she says. Ana will drive me insane with her determination. “Fine. All right. One song. Now get off my back.”

“So touchy,” she mutters, finally giving me peace.

“You owe me twenty bucks!” I shout after her.

The place is filling up fast. The patrons that only come to the bar to drink alcohol are leaving. The bar refuses to sell alcoholic beverages while EY is going on. I clean the empty bottles, cans, and glasses from the bar and wipe it down, trying to ignore how the volume of conversation is getting louder.

People that are closer to my age group amble into the other room as the DJ sets everything up. A pre-arranged band fiddles with their instruments, tuning them in preparation. Participants pay five dollars and they can bring their own music or pick something off a list. There’s also the Sacrifice—one person unlucky enough to be picked by the DJ to perform. They can decline, but the fee to get out of it is five dollars, and if they don’t have it, they have to tell an embarrassing story about themselves. EY is messed up, but fun. I’ve performed a couple times, but tonight, I’m not in the mood. Sleep—I’m in the mood for sleep—quiet—dark—maybe even a comatose state.

The bar area darkens as the other room lights up. I lean my backside against the counter with my arms crossed, staring at the crammed room as the DJ grabs his
mic. Darren Cage is twenty-five and has a disturbingly deep voice. He’s pretty much the only DJ the bar uses. He’s well-liked, fun, and does a good job. It probably doesn’t hurt his popularity that he’s over six feet tall, muscled, and the ladies drool over him. Tonight he’s wearing a red shirt that molds to his well-defined muscles that a gym has credit for and straight-legged jeans with boots.

My eyes narrow as Ana saunters up to him, her dress twinkling silver with each step she takes. Darren tilts his head as she whispers into his ear, grinning as he nods. Ana pats his arm as he straightens, his eyes zooming in on me.
Really, Ana?

“All right, folks, looks like we got our first volunteer. You all know Grayson can make drinks, but did you know he can
sing
? I’ve heard him. It’s true. Let’s go, Grayson.” Darren motions me forward.

The crowd erupts in cheers and clapping as I make my way to Darren and the band. His teeth flash white as I approach. “What’ll it be, Grayson?” he murmurs, handing over the microphone.

I scan the mass of people as I debate on what song to sing. Ana is smiling, looking much too satisfied, as she lounges near the bar. Johnny Love, her cousin, is next to her and I wonder at that, my brows lowering. Why is he still hanging around Fennimore? I thought he was supposed to go back to California weeks days ago. Unless he came back, but why would he come back? I shake his presence off, not caring enough to give it too much thought.

I search my brain for a song and decide to sing one of my own. I’m not a master with the acoustic guitar, but I’m efficient enough. I take it from the wall behind the band. “I got this,” I tell the drummer.

He shrugs, clearly enthralled with being here tonight.

Darren drags a barstool over and sets up the microphone in front of it. I nod my thanks and look out at the awaiting crowd. Conversation is low, most eyes on me. I know they’re all wondering if I’m going to stink or be great. A smirk takes hold of my mouth as I strum the guitar.

“I was told I could be anything I wanted to be. You always told me. But what if I told you all I wanted was to be with you?”

I forget I am not alone. I forget there are dozens of eyes watching me, riveted to every sound and motion I make. I close my eyes, my fingers sore from strumming the guitar strings, and let the words overtake me.

“I was told love doesn’t last. You always told me. I didn’t believe it. I didn’t listen. What if I told you all I wanted was to be with you, even still?

“I was told I would heal, in time. I was told the pain would go away. You always told me. But I don’t want it to. It’s a part of me, a part of you. And all I want is to be with you.

“I was always told I’ll love again. That you weren’t it for me and there will be another. You always told me. But you were and there won’t. I just want to be with you. It’s all I want.

“You always told me. I just want to be with you. It’s all I want. You always told me.”

I awake from the trance of the song, blinking at the eerie silence in the bar. Someone starts to clap and others follow; the sound jarring in its enthusiasm and volume. I sit on the bar stool, feeling like I’m watching this from the sidelines and it’s not me sitting here, but someone else. Whistles and hollering crash over me and I grin.

“Thank you.” I nod, put the guitar back, and start toward the bar.

“Another! Another! Another!” The chant starts, getting louder and boisterous with each second. My gaze slides over the people, something like euphoria hitting me.

Darren is beside me, silently asking me what I want to do. I shrug. He looks out at the crowd. “Okay, okay. Maybe if we ask nicely, Grayson will sing another song. What do you say?”

“Please!” is screamed and I laugh.

“Well?” Darren offers the microphone, the noise level of the room astounding. This is crazy, insane. This is
awesome
.

Ana’s eyes meet mine and she is smiling, looking like a proud mother. The door behind her opens, a flash of a pale face and dark hair catching my eye. Fixated, my heartbeat picks up and I feel a mixture of fury, sorrow, and nausea when it registers in my brain that I am staring at Lily. I’m not sure which is the worst out of the three, but together, they are lethal.

Our gazes connect as I take the microphone from Darren. A pale yellow sundress makes her glow like the sun and her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail. Even now, when I am in such misery and it hurts to look at her, it soothes me somehow too. She looks flustered and a glance behind her shows Mia and Bethany purposely blocking her route to escape. The door opens again and Garrett and Ben enter.

I turn away, my teeth clenched.
Garrett again? Rage slams into me, forcing my chest to heave with it and my mouth to go dry. I take a deep breath and another, icy calm sliding over me as I decide what song to sing. Looking at Darren, I name the song. A quick smile flashes across his lips as he tells the band.

My eyes stay locked with hers as the music begins. Whoops break out in the bar. I refuse to register
anything or anyone but her. I know she won’t look away. She owes me this. Lily owes this humiliation to me and she knows it. I sing ‘She Hates Me’ by Puddle of Mudd. I sing to Lily. Her eyes are gray tonight, wet with tears, and still she holds my gaze, until the last word of the song is sung. I don’t care that this is cruel of me, I don’t care that I know she is hurting. She deserves it this time. I gave her everything, all of me, and Lily gave it back. She didn’t want me enough.

The roar in the bar is deafening when the song ends and I am finally, vaguely aware that people were dancing and singing along to the song as I sung it. Our eyes disconnect and I watch her shove her way through her friends and out the door. The instinct to go after her is there, will always be there, but I ignore it, forcing my attention to the compliments flowing from the mouths around me. It is unreal to have people gushing about me
to
me and I have to take a mental step back, not sure how to take the attention.

Ana makes her way to me. “Excuse me. Excuse me. Okay, get out of the way.” Her green eyes flash with excitement and she grabs my hands.
“Grayson. I have news.”

“Great.” I look toward the door, but Lily hasn’t come back and her entourage is gone as well.

Johnny Love is eyeing me up and down, much like he did the first time he saw me, only this time more closely. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Trust me, not interested,” I say, trying to get past the suffocating throng of people.

“All right, all right, calm down, folks. Maybe if we’re lucky, Grayson will sing again later. On to the next volunteer,” Darren’s voice booms over the microphone.

“Grayson,” Ana calls, grabbing my arm and pulling me to a stop. “You need to listen to Johnny. I mean, seriously. You need to.”

My eyes go from her to him and back. “Why?”

Johnny clasps his hands in front of him and rocks on his heels. “You’ve got a certain look to you—sexy, soulful bookworm with an
edge of badness. People, girls especially, like that. Your vibe is that you act like you don’t care, but you actually feel deeply. Bad boy with a heart. Your song was decent enough and your voice is kind of rough and raspy, but again, people like that. The way the crowd reacted to you…that was impressive.”

I shrug. “So?”

“You’ve got it.”

My brows lower. “I got
it
? What exactly is
it
?”

He waves a hand. “Class.
Charisma. Magnetic pull. Whatever you want to call it. You got it.”

“I don’t really care what I do or don’t have.”

Ana smiles thinly, grabbing my arm and painfully squeezing as she faces her cousin. “Hey, Johnny? Can you give us just one tinny tiny second? Okay?”

His arm shoots up and a gold watch gleams. “I have to leave in ten minutes to get to the airport on time.” Looking at his cousin, he says, “You have three.”

“Great. Thanks.” Ana rolls her eyes as she propels me into a darkened part of the bar, next to the door that leads to the basement. It’s hard to see her face, but I can tell she is glaring at me. “You want to lose the attitude and listen to my cousin. Trust me.”

Frowning, I reply, “Yeah, you keep saying that, only you won’t tell me
why
. What’s the big deal with your cousin?”

Her eyes flash in the semi-dark. “I told you he was in the entertainment business.”

“Yeah. So? Lots of people are.”

“Grayson, he works for Rebel Records!
Out of California. They’re fairly new and haven’t signed a lot of artists, but he is interested in signing
you
.”

A roar begins in my ears and her voice fades away. “What?” I ask; my voice faint.

“I begged him to come back for the next EY night. You could tell he was interested in you the first time he heard you sing.”

I put a hand against the wall to keep myself upright.
“Yeah. I thought he was interested in
me
, not my singing.”

“He’s married.”

“You tell me
now
.”

She grabs my biceps and digs her fingernails in. “Grayson. This could be it. This could your chance to get your music out there. You’ll be
set
if this works out.”

“Ana…” I turn away and run a hand through my hair. “I’m flattered, but…this isn’t what I want. I mean, maybe someday this is what I want. I never thought that far ahead. I want to write music and I want to sing, but…stardom?
Or possible stardom? That’s not what I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about college and getting an education.”

“So you skip all that and get right to the money, music, and mayhem.”

I stare at Ana, more a sister to me than a friend. “I can’t.”

Shoulders slumping, she sighs.
“All right. I tried. Go tell him you’re not interested. Give up your dream for an education.” Even in the dimness of the alcove I can still somehow see her eyes rolling.

“I’m sorry for disappointing you.” It seems like I’m really good at it.

Ana gives me a quick hug. “I’m not disappointed. Don’t be sorry, Grayson. Just be happy.”

I swallow thickly.
“Yeah.”

I storm into her bedroom, startling her. The room is large, decorated in creams and blues. I faintly smell lavender as soon as I enter, a scent I associate with my mom; a scent I can’t stand. My mother sets
down the book, but she doesn’t set down the drink. I made sure to time this confrontation before she is completely wasted and worthless for the remainder of the night. It’s time to get it all out there. I got nothing to lose.

Her blond hair is pulled away from her face with a white headband and she is wearing a pink pajama top. Her legs are covered by a blanket. She looks sad and it just makes me even angrier. Aidan and I are the ones who should be sad,
not
her. I didn’t choose to live; she chose for me. And then she apparently regretted it.

“Is something wrong, Grayson?” Her voice is quiet, her words not yet slurred.

“I want to know…what’s wrong with me.” I gaze into my mother’s eyes, daring her not to look away, daring her to finally tell me how she really feels. “I
demand
to know.”

She sits up straighter. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Grayson. Why would you think there is?”

I take a deep breath, my eyes roaming over the framed, painted landscape pictures and coming to rest on the family portrait taken just after Aidan was born. That family wasn’t real—had never been real.

“I told you I heard you and Dad, a few years back. You were arguing about being married, about your drinking, about Dad never being around—everything. He said something about why didn’t you just leave then and you said you would have, if it hadn’t been for me. You said you never would have married him if you hadn’t gotten pregnant with me. You said—
“ I swallow with difficulty. “You said the only way you could stand the life you had, was if you drank. You said that.”

Her eyes sadden.
“Oh, Grayson.” My mom kneels on the bed, her hands clasped together in her lap. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

I laugh bitterly. “That’s what you have to say to me? That I wasn’t supposed to hear it? Nothing about not meaning what you said or that I heard you wrong, but that I wasn’t supposed to know you said and thought those things. Why didn’t you just have an abortion then, since you never wanted me?”

Her lower lip trembles and I look away from it. “I’m sorry, Grayson. I—this…I wanted to be a good mother to you,” she whispers. “I tried, at first. I couldn’t handle it. The responsibility, the demands. I just couldn’t. I don’t know…what’s wrong with me. It’s not you. It’s never been you. I’m a failure as a mother and…and…I gave up, Grayson. I just gave up.”

“That’s fucking rich.”

“Don’t swear at me,” she snaps, grabbing the glass from the nightstand and taking a swallow.

“So instead of trying harder, instead of maybe getting some help, you just stopped caring? Or did you never start?
And what about Aidan? If it was so hard with me, why have another kid?”

My mom stares at the almost empty drink in her hand. “I love you, Grayson, you and your brother both.
As much as I know how. It’s not enough. I realize that. I’m just—I’m not good enough. I’m not programmed to be a good mom. I don’t know how.” Tears stream down her face and drip from her chin.

“Then why don’t you just
leave
?” I beseech. “Just leave so we don’t have to keep seeing this every day. If you love us at all, you’ll leave.”

“I can’t,” she whispers brokenly.

“Well…” My throat tightens and I struggle to take a breath. “I’m glad you can exceed at some things even though you can’t at others. I guess you weren’t cut out to be a mom, but an alcoholic—that’s right up your alley.”

I turn to leave, spinning back on my heel to face her. She waits, her eyes trained on me. “We’re done now. I’m done with you. Forget about me, this has nothing to do with me, I don’t care what you think of me anymore, but if you can’t see the gift Aidan is, then…I just feel sorry for you.”

She is openly crying now, quietly sobbing against the blanket she has clutched to her face.

I blink my stinging eyes. “You’re not my mom.” My chest squeezes painfully. “Not because you couldn’t be, but because you didn’t want to be. I would have taken you any way I could have had you, but you wouldn’t allow it. You and your booze—I hope you have a long, happy life together. But I won’t be in it.”

Pausing, I wait for her to speak. Nothing. She says nothing—just watches me with resignation, like she has been waiting for this moment, like she is in no way surprised by my words. And maybe she isn’t. 

My throat tightens as I continue, “When Aidan’s older you better just wish he’s more forgiving than I am. I’m leaving soon. I don’t want you to contact me. When I’m gone from here, I want to stay gone. I want you to stay away, forget I exist.”

I flash a tight smile. “It shouldn’t be too hard.” I storm from the room, down the stairs, and out into the rain.

***

I get home from the bar around nine. It’s Wednesday night and since it was almost dead in the place, Jackie let me go home early. I’m glad because I want to spend some time with Aidan before he goes to Wyalusing State Park for his two-week stay.

The television is on in the living room and the scent of buttered popcorn, a nightly treat for my dad and Aidan, lingers in the air. ‘King of Queens’ is on. My dad sits on the couch, glancing up at me when I pause behind the couch. “You’re home early.”

“It wasn’t busy so Jackie let me leave early.”

“That was nice of her.” His attention is already on the TV once more.

“How was work today?” I ask, leaning my elbows on the back of the couch. I don’t know if I really care, but it is something to talk about, some connection to my father.

“Tiring.”
He hesitates, and then says, “I wanted to ask you if everything is okay with you and Lily?”

I swallow.
“Yeah. Great. Why?”

“We just haven’t seen her around here lately and Aidan mentioned missing her too.”

I straighten, rubbing the back of my head. “It’s not like she came over here all that much anyway.”

His eyes meet mine. “She used to.”

Shrugging, I turn my gaze to the wood floor. “Things change.”

With a sigh, he says, “Unfortunately I know that all too well.”

I get the feeling he is talking about my mom, but as I really don’t want to talk, or even think, about her right now, I don’t ask.

“Where’s Aidan?” I ask instead, looking around the room even though I know he is not in it. The orderly quality of it is evidence of the cleaning lady making her weekly stop.

“In his room.” My dad gets up, halfway turning toward me. “He, uh, he doesn’t want to go to Wyalusing.”

Frown on my face; I’m already moving for the stairs when I ask, “Why?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe you can talk to him.”

I nod, pounding up the stairs. The hallway is lit up and the figure sprawled out on the floor causes me to blanch, tripping over my feet in shock.
“Mom?” When her crumpled form doesn’t move or make a sound, I hurry for her, my chest tight. “
Mom?
”

Aidan’s door opens.
“Grayson? What’s going on?”

“Dad!”
I shout, almost to her. I glance sharply at a wide-eyed Aidan. “Get Dad. Go!
Now!
”

My first thought is, she’s dead. I ran so fast to get to her, but I am now moving in slow motion, afraid of what I’ll find. I kneel next to her, my father’s feet thundering up the stairs faintly registering somewhere in my consciousness. She’s lying on her side with her back to me, her blond hair covering her face. I raise a shaking hand to touch her arm.

“Grayson, get back,” my dad snaps; shoving me aside to take my spot.

I notice something as I take in his expression. It is full of fear. In fact, my dad’s features are twisted with it, pale and drawn. I have never seen that look on his face before, never. I stumble back a step, landing against the wall. Aidan moves next to me, his cool hand reaching up to grasp mine.

In those endless minutes where I do not know if my mother is alive or dead, I realize something. I don’t know what I would do if she was gone. I glance at Aidan, the tightness in my chest almost unbearable. Silent tears travel down his face. He sniffles, causing a twinge in my heart and I let go of his hand and instead clasp his shoulder and press him into my side.

“She’s fine, Aidan. She’s going to be okay,” I murmur quietly.

My dad looks back at us, relief etched into his features. “She’s okay. She just…” he doesn’t finish, his throat bobbing as he swallows. Shaking his head, he gently scoops his wife up into his arms and into the bedroom, the door softly closing behind them.

“Grayson?”
Aidan’s voice is small.

My eyes are still on the closed door down the hallway.
“Yeah?”

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

I swipe hair from my brother’s eyes and he moves his head away. “Sure. As long as you promise not to fart. You fart and you go.”

A wobbly smile captures his lips. “I won’t. But if I do it while I’m sleeping, it doesn’t count.”

“A fart is a fart, Aidan.”

He laughs, already forgetting about the scene played out only minutes before. That’s the thing about kids—they are resilient, adaptable.
Me, not so much. My heart rate isn’t completely back to normal yet and the tightness is still there, though it has lessened. And anger…anger is there too, but then, when isn’t it?

I turn on the light in my bedroom and tug my shirt over my head, tossing it in a corner of the room. “Hey. What’s this about you not going to Wyalusing?” I ask Aidan, noting his Star Wars pajama pants.

His shoulders lift and lower in a shrug and his eyes are on his feet. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel like it.”

I change into a pair of yellow lounge pants. “You just don’t feel like it? That’s a pretty weak excuse. What’s the reason, Aidan? I mean it, tell me.”

Those somber brown eyes of his meet mine. “I don’t want to leave you.”

My brows lower. “What? What kind of crap is that?”

Aidan sits on the side of the bed, staring at his clasped hands. “You’re leaving soon. I don’t want to be gone for two weeks when you’re leaving soon.”

I sit next to him, humbled and exasperated.
“Aidan, you can’t
not
do things because of where I will be or won’t be, or whatever. That’s shit. You gotta live your life. You’re
eleven
. Have some fun.”

He shifts his feet. “I have fun.”

“Oh, yeah? When?”

“With you.
And Lily.”

I jump to my feet, the lightheartedness I was striving for suddenly flat. “All right, lights out. I’m tired.” I flick the switch and the room is coated in black.

“Are you and Lily fighting?”

I stub my toe on the bedframe and curse. “No.”

“Then how come you’re never together anymore?”

“I don’t know. Don’t worry about it.” I toss the cover back, making sure to take it off Aidan in the process, and tug it my way as I get into the bed. The silence from Aidan is cue enough he knows I’m irritated. I sigh, sending some blanket his way.

“But you never talk about her.”

I yank the blanket off him and bunch it up on the farthest side of the bed away from him, tucking it under my arm as though holding it for ransom against unwanted conversation. I scowl at the window and the stars beyond that.

“And—“

“Do you want to be warm tonight or not? Keep it up and you’ll be sleeping without a blanket,” I threaten.

Aidan sighs and once again guilt causes me to give him some of the blanket.

Hours later, I’m still awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark when Aidan lets one loose in his sleep.
“Seriously?”

***

I decided to go for a run to clear my head or at least keep me from doing something I’d later regret—like try to see Lily again. She won’t see me. She won’t call me or return my phone calls. It’s like I’ve really disappeared to her. I clench my fists at the tightening in my chest. I still can’t believe she did this. I mean, I kind of knew it was going to happen because that’s just how my life goes, but I never thought it would be Lily ending it. I figured if it
was
her that broke things off; it would be because I did something unforgiveable. All I did was allow myself to hope, to be happy.

The run didn’t help.

“FML!” I shout, startling an old lady checking her mailbox.

It’s humid and sunny,
the heat baking anyone unfortunate or stupid to be outside for long. I consider myself the latter, most recent events proof of such and running in this heat making it the most obvious. June is being a bitch. Even the light breeze is warm. My shirt is sticky and the black athletic shorts I’m wearing need to go ASAP. Sweat trickles down my forehead and neck and I’m pretty sure I stink.

When I get to my street, my head veers in the direction of her house, as it always does. Of course she’s not visible. Lily is hiding from me. I never see her anymore—not in the stores, not running, not around town,
nowhere
. It suddenly hits me where she is and I have an ‘Oh yeah’ moment. She’s camping with her family. I’m supposed to be camping with them.