“I drank water instead of Long Islands by
the gallons,” Kyra said, her attention on the ceiling. She gaped up
at all the amazing old light fixtures above her head. A particular
chandelier with tons of draping crystals caught her eye. It was a
little over the top, but Kyra fell in love.
“And who had more fun?”
Kyra snorted. “Yeah, you really look like
you had a lot of fun last night.”
“Oh, I did. I’m just paying for it today.
Nothing comes for free,” Stevie muttered. Her voice was far away
and drew Kyra’s attention. She didn’t know much about Stevie’s past
or her parents, but Stevie had talked at length about her family
last night after a few too many Long Islands.
“Stevie,” she started, unsure of how to
proceed. “Have you talked to your parents lately?”
Stevie dropped the tassel of the lamp she
was playing with. Her covered eyes glanced at Kyra. “What do you
mean?”
Kyra took a deep breath. “You just talked a
lot about them last night, and it sounded like you were pretty
bitter.”
She couldn’t see to know for sure, but it
looked like Stevie rolled her eyes behind her massive glasses.
“‘Bitter’ is an understatement. They’re idiots.”
“Because of the reality shows?”
Stevie meandered down the aisle ahead of
Kyra. “Yeah. They sell their souls to make another spinoff. It’s
gross, and they go broke trying to produce these things because no
one else cares about them anymore. It’s pathetic, really. They’re
so desperate to be relevant that they will do anything for the
spotlight.”
“That’s pretty sad,” Kyra said, feeling for
her friend.
Stevie shrugged. “I’ve learned to stay out
of their damage path.”
Kyra let the subject drop for now because
she didn’t want to push too far. She moved on to a row of mirrors,
her fingers trailing over the dusty frames. She couldn’t even begin
to image what kind of pain Stevie must feel to always come second
to her parents’ fame. Maybe that was why she and Stevie got along
so well; they had a lot of things in common, and they both lived a
life of hurt.
“What’s up with you and Hale?” Stevie asked,
animated now that they weren’t talking about her.
“Nothing much at all,” Kyra grumbled. She
looked at the price tag of one mirror. She grimaced and moved
on.
“That was a pretty hot dance y’all had, even
if it was cut short.” Stevie found a bin of old cabinet knobs. “Oh!
Kyra, these are cute!” She held up a pair of sea glass knobs.
Kyra snatched them away from her. “These
are. What else is in there?” They sorted through the knobs, finding
and matching an assortment of bright colors for the kitchen. Kyra
put them in her basket.
“He’s been friendlier lately at the house,
but that was the first time he actually acted like he wanted to be
around me. Of course, that was before he just went off and punched
someone,” Kyra said, returning to their previous conversation. “Do
you know the guy Hale punched?”
“He’s a local guy, probably went to school
with Cade and Hale, but I don’t know their past or anything. Do you
want to defend your crush’s honor or something?” Stevie
chuckled.
“I just wish I knew what set him off.” Kyra
whirled around, startling her friend. “Be honest with me, Stevie.
Am I crazy for being interested in him? I mean, I literally thought
he hated me earlier this week.” She thought for a second.
“Actually, he still might, I don’t know.”
Stevie frowned at Kyra’s question. “No way.
You’re not crazy. Maybe a sadist or something ‘cause guys like Hale
are just heartache waiting to happen.”
Kyra let out a huff of frustration. “He
always seems so frustrated with me, like I’m not his type or
something.”
Stevie sighed, working her fingers through
the tangles in her long auburn hair. “Kyra, I don’t know what to
tell you. Any normal guy would be all over you.”
“That’s the thing,” Kyra said, shaking her
head, “Hale isn’t just any normal guy. I can tell he’s
different.”
“There’s your problem. Stick with what you
know.” Stevie wagged her finger at Kyra like she was an errant
child.
“That’s kind of another problem,” she said
carefully. “I’m a virgin.”
Stevie took a moment to process her words,
but when she did, her mouth dropped open. “Are you fucking kidding
me?” Stevie practically shouted. Kyra shushed her. “You don’t
drink, and you’re a virgin?”
This was exactly the reaction Kyra was
expecting. It’s why she never told anyone. “I’m not a goody
two-shoes. I’ve, like, done
stuff
. So it’s not like I’m a
prude. And I used to drink a lot in high school. It didn’t get me
anything but trouble. So I quit.” Kyra’s voice trailed off as she
went, but she reminded herself she was going to be different and
open up with her friends. “My mom died in prison because she was a
drug addict. My drinking was starting to feel a little
uncontrollable, so I stopped. And I haven’t done it since.”
Stevie’s mouth closed, and she took a moment
to recover. Kyra knew she’d dumped a lot on her at once, so she
waited, her hand running across old cabinets. “And you don’t want
to be like her?”
“That’s why I’m like this,” Kyra gestured to
herself, pinning a cheesy, fake smile on her face. “I don’t want to
be anything like her. But sometimes, like when I drink or do
other…stuff, I feel like I’ll end up just like her.”
“Shit, Kyra. I’m sorry to hear that. And I’m
a bitch for all those remarks I made about you not drinking.”
“No, Stevie,” Kyra said. “Don’t feel bad. I
don’t tell a lot of people that.”
Stevie nodded. She took off her sunglasses.
Her eyes were red, and black circles shadowed underneath her skin,
but she looked at Kyra with sincerity. “Look, if you’re a virgin,
I’d tell you to back away from Hale Cooper. I mean, it’s okay to
have a crush, but give it some time and space, you know? Don’t rush
into anything with him. You saw what he did last night. He’s
different.”
Kyra nodded, thinking. “You’re right. I
think I just got carried away with him. He’s really the first guy
that’s interested me besides silly high school crushes.”
“I get it, trust me. Just be careful. Those
kinds of guys can ruin you.” The way Stevie pursed her lips and
turned away to pull her glasses back on had Kyra wondering if she’d
had her own run-in with a guy like Hale.
“I will. Thanks for the advice.” Kyra slung
her arm around Stevie as they headed down the next row of salvaged
goods.
“Just remember that the next time Hale
Cooper shakes his tight ass in front of you.”
* * *
Kyra spent her Sunday soaking in her
upstairs bathtub and enjoying the sun. She read a book, listened to
some great music, and went to dinner with Stevie. By the end of the
day, she was starting to feel human again, and she hadn’t thought
that much about Hale or the fight.
But she was now. He was all she could think
about. She’d drifted to the front bedroom, hovering at the door and
staring down at the piles of albums. There was her mother’s entire
life, laid out before Kyra. It was a lot to take in and a lot to
handle. Her therapist probably would have told her something
prolific about facing her past and accepting where she’d come from,
but that all seemed silly to think about when this great epiphany
was supposed to just come from some old, musty albums.
Finally, she went inside and sat down in
front of the album she’d closed earlier in the week. She picked it
up and brushed off some dust before she opened the book, pausing at
the picture of Lila and Florence in front of her house. She avoided
looking at her grandmother, her focus solely on Lila.
It was clear where Kyra got her beauty. Her
mother was stunning, even at a young age. She probably had boys
chasing her and ogling her all the time. Kyra wondered if Lila had
accepted their advances or if she’d wanted to focus on other things
like Kyra had.
She couldn’t help but wonder if it was men
that drove her mother to drugs and eventually to suicide.
Kyra flipped to the next page, studying her
mother’s baby picture. She was a cute baby, but it didn’t tell Kyra
much about her mother’s character. She turned the page to see a
laughing Garlan standing beside a young Lila in a ballet outfit.
She was leggy with big teeth, laughing and twirling with her hands
above her head.
Carefree. Happy. Loving life.
Kyra slapped the book shut, her eyes
stinging with tears. She didn’t understand what had happened to her
mother or how her seemingly perfect life had turned so sour. Kyra
would always be on the outside looking in, and she was destined to
never fully know her mother’s struggles. All the people who had
known about Lila’s life refused to even acknowledge her, as if
she’d never existed—as if her life was worthless.
Looking at all the books around her, she
counted at least twenty. It would take her a long time to go
through them if she could look at only one picture at a time. That
would never work.
“Maybe it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid,”
Kyra mused. She picked up the book and flipped to a new page. It
was her mom at a dance recital, wearing the same outfit.
Kyra took a deep breath and flipped the
pages, letting herself see the pictures without feeling them. All
the pictures were of her mother at a young age, growing up, finding
herself.
Or losing herself. However she wanted to see
it.
Kyra sat the book behind her on the window
seat. One down, she thought. She felt hollow and aching. Rising
from the floor, she called it a night. One album a day wasn’t so
bad. She could handle that.
She ignored the film of tears blurring her
vision as she walked back to her room. Her gaze went to the
bathroom and the medicine cabinet. She knew what was inside, what
was waiting for her if she needed it bad enough. She picked at the
stack of bracelets on her wrist, her finger finding the raised
scars hidden beneath.
She was saved from making a bad decision
when her cell phone rang. She walked over to where it was charging
and saw the call was from Aunt Carol. She picked it up and
answered.
“Hello?”
“Kyra!”
She knew from her aunt’s tone that she was
in trouble. She was confused for a moment before she remembered her
talk with Mrs. Walker yesterday. Rolling her eyes, Kyra said, “I
take it you talked to Florence.”
“Yes, I did, and I raised you better than
the cuss out old ladies.”
“I didn’t cuss her out.” Kyra sat down on
her bed. “I just cursed while talking to her. That’s
different.”
“Well, Florence is very upset, and so is
your Uncle Thomas. I told you when you moved down there that you
would need to avoid Florence. She’s not the person you want to be
enemies with.”
“I really don’t care what she thinks of
me.”
“Kyra! She’s your grandmother!” Aunt Carol
sounded as shocked as Mrs. Walker had. Kyra didn’t understand these
women.
“She gave up that right when she disowned my
mom and me.”
“Now, Kyra…”
“Look, Aunt Carol. I don’t really want to
talk about this tonight. I’m exhausted.”
After she said her goodbyes, Kyra hung up
the phone. Her eyes shifted back to the medicine cabinet, but she
forced herself to look away. She didn’t need that tonight. She was
okay.
She was okay.
nine
M
onday morning
rolled around, and Kyra woke. She sat up in bed, pushing her sleep
mask onto her forehead and mussing her hair. The quietness
throughout the house was still disorientating, even after a weekend
of silence. Kyra looked around her room and felt truly alone for
the first time since she’d moved to the island.
Forcing herself to get out of bed and out of
her slump, she went about her morning, keeping to her typical
schedule. She threw in a longer workout than was necessary, but she
had a lot of anxiety to burn off. She couldn’t help it; she was
still worried about Hale.
A knock sounded on her door before lunch.
Kyra picked her way down the stairs and crossed over the expanse of
tools and dropcloths. She wasn’t surprised when she opened the door
and saw Cade.
“Hey,” she said, her voice quiet. She
stepped back and invited him in, shielding her eyes from the bright
sun. He looked miserable. Dark circles stained the skin under his
eyes, which were red and irritated. Even his hands shook slightly
as he raked them through his hair.
“Hi,” he sighed and looked around the house
like he was lost.
“How are you doing?”
“I am okay. He will be let out on bail in a
few hours. I wanted to come by here before I picked him up.”
Kyra pulled Cade into a hug. He looked so
confused and hurt, and the pauses before his words were more
prolonged than normal from stress. “He’s going to be okay. Lots of
people go to jail in their lives.”
Cade shook his head when he stepped back.
“Not Hale. He has had some trouble…” He stumbled over the word.
“…Trouble in his past. This kind of thing finds him.”
Kyra frowned. She wanted to ask Cade what
had happened in Hale’s past, but she didn’t want to pry. “He does
have an image in this town,” she said instead.
Cade ran his hand over his face. “He is not
a bad guy, but everyone in this town judges him anyway. I wish he
would take off and make a clean break somewhere else, but he won’t.
I know Friday night made him look like a bad guy, but he is really
not like that.”
“Why did he react like that? I’ve never seen
him so angry.” Not that Kyra had known him for long, even though
she’d seen him angry plenty of times before. But Friday night at
the bar had been an entirely new level of angry.
“When we were kids, I was bullied a lot.”
Cade took a deep breath, like he was fortifying himself against the
painful memories. “I had a pretty bad stutter, and the other kids
would call me names or knock me around a bit. We were just in
elementary school and then later, middle school, but Hale became
really protective. He would run all the mean kids off with just a
glare, but sometimes he would hit them. He got into so much
trouble. I think it all started back then, and it has followed him
around ever since. Last night when that guy from our high school
got in my face and made fun of the way I talk, it just set Hale
off. He lost it.”