The Dead of Winter (Seasons of Jefferson: Book 2) (38 page)

“The one they don’t use anymore? Mom, nobody goes all the way out there. Is it safe?”

“Yes, it’s safe. You’ve got facilitators and other clients. There’s just no unwanted foot traffic. They hold it there because it’s private. You’ll be fine, son. Quit worrying. I’ll be waiting for you right outside.”

When we pull up outside of the church, there are a handful of cars in the parking lot. I turn to my mom, “Great, not only am I the new one, but I’m the late one too.” I decide to sneak into the back as quietly as possible, and sit down in the last pew. That way, nobody will notice me.

The old wooden bench creaks as soon as I put weight on it. I have to look down so nobody sees how red my face is. If anyone’s looking at me right now, I wouldn’t know it. I’m not looking up. Not until I know they’ve forgotten I’m here.

“Welcome everyone,” a voice echoes through the long narrow building. “It’s good to see you’ve all decided to come out for our first meeting of the new year. I see some familiar faces,” pause, “and a few new ones. I know this is going to be tough for some of you, so before we begin, I want you to know that this is a respectful group. We need to listen, but not judge. Please think about your comments, and hold your tongue if there’s something you think could hurt somebody else. This is a safe place. You’re all safe here. Respected. Shall we begin? For any of you who have been with us before, would you like to start us off by introducing yourselves?”

There’s no sound. I look up to see nodding heads, covered in scarves and stocking caps.
It is chilly in here. Wish I was wearing mine.

“Alright then, since I don’t have any volunteers, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Bill. I started this group about ten years ago after my wife and son were killed by a drunk driver. I damn near went crazy. I turned to alcohol. Lost my job. I was down and out with nowhere left to turn. A pastor got a hold of me one day outside of a local coffee shop. He introduced me to a few other people who had sought him out for help. At first, we decided to meet up at the same coffee shop every Sunday after church. One thing led to another. The group grew, as more struggling people heard about our meetings. To date, this group has seen over two hundred faces come and go.”

I bury my head in my hands.
Oh my God, is mom really making me come to one of these groups? This is something you’d see on television. What am I doing here? This is not going to help me. I should just text Tangles. Nobody knows I’m here anyway. They’re not going to notice.
I pull my phone from my pocket and shoot off a quick text.

ME: This thing I’m doing. Pretty lame. I’d rather spend time with you … and those lips.

I search my phone for the picture we had taken at the New Year’s party. I love the way the lights from the disco ball are scattered across her cheeks. It reminds me of how magical that night was. By the time I find it, I realize I’ve been staring at my screen a little too long.
I’d better look up so they don’t notice I’m not paying attention.

“You’d be surprised how much it helps to share your story with others who have faced hardship. I’m a prime example. Today, I’m back on my feet. I have a good job. And I get to meet here with all of you every week to help you through your struggles. I’d really like to start with getting to know you. If you feel comfortable, it would be great if you could come to the front and introduce yourself. Tell us a little about what brought you here. I know I’ve already asked once, but maybe we can start with some of you who have been here a few times. It might help ease our new friends in.”

Speaking of new friends. I hit
send.

I hear a little shuffling, and then a ping.
Weird. I just sent that text. That’s not my phone already is it?
I look down at my screen.
Nope, wasn’t me.

“Before we begin, I have a few little housekeeping rules I forgot to mention. Please keep all cell phones turned off and put away. This is a secure environment.” A few people in front of me reach into their pockets and purses fumbling around to shut down their devices.

Shoot. If she texts back, she’s going to think I’m ignoring her. I should probably let her know I have to put my phone away.

ME: Sorry, Tangles. Got to go. I’ll text you later.

Send.

Ding.

What?
I look down, again. No message. I’m curious to see who’s in sync with Avery’s phone. I shift back and forth, trying to peek around the stocking hats and hooded jackets. I don’t see anyone on their phone, but I do catch sight of a tiny, little figure moving toward the podium. When she turns around to address the group, she pulls her hood from her head.

My mouth drops.
It’s her.
My mind starts spinning.
What is she doing here? Oh God. What if she thinks I’m spying on her? I didn’t know you were here I swear, Tangles. I know you’re not ready for me to hear whatever it is you’re going through. You’d be mortified if you knew I was here.
I drop my head back in between my hands and sink down in my seat, hoping she won’t see me.
I’m a good actor. She’ll never know I was here.
I take a deep breath and curl into a ball.

“For those of you who don’t know me. My name is Avery. I’ve been here for a few sessions, and I can say that Bill is right. It does help to talk about it with other people who are going through hard times too. I’m here cuz I can’t talk about this with my family. To them, I’m the strong one. But I’m not. I’m not strong at all. I hide behind my humor. I crack jokes, talk back, and put on a fake smile every single day.

I knew it. She’s masking her hurt. What is it? Do I want to know? I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be listening to this. If she sees me, she’ll be so embarrassed, she’ll never be able to look at me again. It will break her. It will break us.

Tangles continues. “I don’t want to let them down. Ever since my brother messed up, I feel like I have to be perfect. My parents can’t handle any more stress. They’ve gone through enough. I figured if I came down here to stay with my cousin, it would give them a break. They wouldn’t have to think about me or take care of me. But it’s hard. It’s hard to leave your parents when you’re sixteen years old. Especially during the holidays.”

She bends her head and starts to cry. I want to run up there. I want to run up there so bad, but I can’t. It would destroy her.

“Avery. You don’t have to say anything else, if you’re not ready. You can stop at any time.”

“No. I need to. I feel like I need to talk about it. There was a new development over the holidays. Something you guys don’t know about yet. I know you were all praying that they would find my brother. Well, we finally got the call on Christmas Eve. Some snowshoers found him in a crevice, down by the river. He’s dead. My big brother is gone.”

Snowshoers found him in a crevice? On Christmas Eve? Just like Pistol Black? Avery Black? The swimmer? No. It can’t be.
My mind flashes back to the earring I found attached to my jacket on Christmas Eve. It was engraved with the initials AGB. My heart stops dead cold. I look up, fighting for air. I feel like I’m suffocating. My ears start to ring. I see a mob of people move toward the front, lavishing her with hugs. Her brown curls pop out around their arms. A vision of Pistol flashes before me. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Country to the core.
Son of bitch! Why didn’t I put two and two together?
I’m frozen in place. Dazed by the realization that Tangles is Avery Black. In that very moment when I realize that my Avery is also Pistol Black’s Avery, I see red.

Without thinking, I shoot my hand into the air as I jump up from my seat. “MY TURN!” I scream as I stomp down the aisle toward the podium. The group divides as I brush past the people who have gathered around that deceitful, little liar.
How could she pull this on me? She must’ve known. Something should’ve given it away. She knew. She played me.

As I reach the front, her eyes meet mine. She gasps and falls back into Bill. Her hand comes up over her mouth.
Oh, cut the drama. Why does she look so shocked?
Is s
he pissed that I found out her dirty, little secret? Well, in case she doesn’t know, it’s time she heard mine.

I tap on the microphone. “Hello everybody.” There’s still mumbling. Again, I tap to get their attention. “I’m sorry if I took cuts, but I have something important to say.” I’m breathing hard. I feel a hand come up behind me. It’s Bill.

“Take a deep breath, son. It’s okay. I can tell this is hard for you, but talking about it will make it better.”

I hold my hand up to stop Bill. I don’t want to hear his cheesy after school special right now.
This
is real. I scan the crowd to find her. She’s shrunken back into a group of people, but I stop and wait until she looks at me. I know she can feel me glaring her down. When our eyes finally meet, I notice she’s still crying, shaking her head, no. I don’t care. I don’t feel sorry for her.

“Allow
me
to introduce
myself.
My name is Caden. Caden
Woodley
.” I pause when I hear her audible gasp.
Time to get a taste of your own Black medicine, baby.
I squint my eyes and growl. “I am here today to overcome my fear of
driving
. A fear I never used to have until this past Thanksgiving.” I look around at the crowd, and let the sarcasm drip from my voice. “Why, oh why would a seventeen year old guy be afraid of
DRIVING
?”

No answer.

“Well, let me tell you. There was this guy. A real ASSHOLE. He beat my twin sister. Stalked her. Broke into my truck.
Stole
my gun. And used it to chase us over an icy cliff!” I stop and chuckle, shaking my head. “The irony is, this ASSHOLE, happened to be HER,” I point at Avery Black, “BROTHER!”

I hear gasps firing out around the room, but I don’t even look back. I push away from the podium, stomp down the aisle, and slam open the front door.
I’ve got to get out of here. And fast. Thank God my mom is in the car waiting.

“How’d it go, son?” my Mom’s voice is coated with sugar. It makes me want to throw up.

“Let’s just say, something tells me, I’m not going to be invited back.”

I GET UP TO RUN
to the bathroom again.
I can’t believe I fell for Pistol Black’s sister. I kissed her. I liked it.
My mind won’t stop battling itself. It’s tearing me up inside. One minute I’m disgusted over who she is and the next I miss her so much it hurts.
I hate this. How could she do this to me? Doesn’t she know how much I’ve already been through?
She was my last hope. My reason to move forward.
I miss laughing. I miss feeling good. When was the last time I was happy? It feels like forever.

I think of the New Year’s party. How exuberant she was. How we moved together with ease. She was beautiful that night. It was one of the best nights of my life. She’s the one who made me happy again. It was her. Every bit of joy I’ve had since the accident was because of something
she
said. Something
she
did. Was it all a trick? I know she thinks she’s really sly pulling one over on me like this.
How could I be such a fool?

The thought of wanting the one girl in this world that I can’t have, makes me sick. This feels like a cruel joke. Another roar escapes my throat. It’s accompanied by a rush of yellow fluid.
I don’t know how I can keep doing this. There’s nothing left in me.
My throat hurts. My muscles ache. I can’t breathe.

There’s a knock at the bathroom door. My sister softly whispers, “Caden, I hear you in there. When you’re done, come out and talk to me. Maybe I can help.”

“Go away.”

I hear thumping on the wall.
She’s so stubborn sometimes. She’s doing the same thing to me that she does to Mom when she locks her out of the bathroom. Standing with her back to the wall, slapping her palms against it til she drives me so crazy that I have to come out.

“I’m going to wait here until you come out. You’ve got to tell somebody what happened at that group. It’s been a whole week. Caden, Mom’s in there crying again. She thinks it’s her fault for making you go. What did they do to you in there?”

I rinse my mouth and brush my teeth. I lean my head up against the door, but I’m not going to open it. “Tell her it’s not her fault.
They
didn’t do anything to me. It was me. I made an
ass
of myself.”

“I know. They called Mom and told her you’re not welcome back. No details on why.”

“It’s hard to hear you through the door. Won’t you come out and talk to me about it?”

I do not want to talk about this. I need an excuse, and it has to be one that T will relate to. I finally come up with a plausible reason for rejecting her counseling services. “It’s a school night. I need to get to bed. I can’t focus when I’m tired.”

“You’ve been using that excuse all week, so that one’s not going to fly with me. Besides, Fridays are easy. You don’t even have to focus. Plus, you get to leave early for ski practice.”

She’s not buying it.
I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her for a few minutes
. She’d probably understand how pissed I am better than anyone.
This is so messed up.
I decide to open the door to face my sister and fess up to what I’ve done.