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“What?” I asked absentmindedly, words fading away but not quite gone like they’d been removed by one of those shitty pen erasers which always left a mark.
Mom stepped in front of me and waved a hand in my face. Her hair fell in layers, curled loosely just right, a pressed white dress hugging her form.
“Well?” Mom asked, squinting her eyes. “Are you coming in or are you simply going to stand out here all day? You look like a wreck. Are you off your meds again?”
“Yeah, no.” I inhaled, grounding myself. So sick of this shit with her. After what I’d been through, I just couldn’t even deal with this anymore. “Never taking those things again.”
“Jemma!” Mom’s eyes widened. Then, she relaxed and waved her hand in the air a second time, this time not directly in front of my face. “You know those things keep you sane, right?”
“I think we have two definitions of the word sane.”
She threw her hands up once more, conceding. “Alright, fine. We’ll talk about the meds later. Right now, you have a party to make an appearance at.”
Before I had the chance to even begin to process any of the events that had just happened, she gripped my hand and pulled me toward the door, storming inside.
* * *
I crossed my legs, leaning against a sofa with stiff pillows. All around me, strangers—five strangers I presumed to be friends of the family—lounged in the expansive living area. Some in the folding chairs his parents placed out in the room, a few on the sofas with the rest of the family. I occupied my small corner of real estate space, pretending to eat some cheese and crackers I’d grabbed from the spread on the coffee table in the middle of all of us.
Three or four different conversations carried through the room, though my mom’s voice was by far the loudest. She threw her head back from her seat across from me, laughing with Jamie’s mom at something she’d just said.
And me?
I hoped Jamie was somewhere around, watching over me like he promised.
Because honestly? The only thing helping me get over the massive social anxiety crawling through my gut at the moment was that very idea that he was sitting right next to me, holding my hand. Even if I couldn’t find it.
“How you holding up, Jemma?”
Doug, Jamie’s oldest brother, sat down in the space next to me on the couch. His eyes smiled, his Roman shaped nose and facial features so similar to Jamie it nearly killed me. Not that anyone looked like Jamie.
So, if you’re next to me, wise guy, I’m not checking out your brother.
To my chagrin, no response came back.
My lips curled into a small smile, imagining Jamie’s reaction to that.
“I’m doing okay,” I said. “How about you?”
“Alright.” Doug shrugged, looking away from me in the same way Jamie did when he was deep in thought. “Every day gets easier, I guess.”
After all, Doug had been the brother to find Jamie. Of course that would continue to haunt him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wish I knew what else to say.”
Doug glanced back at me and gave me a weak smile.
“That’s okay, just you being here means a lot to the family. I’m glad you made it out.”
I bit my lip, remembering some of the things Jamie had told me about his family. I wondered if Doug had been part of that, too. I mean, duh, of course he had been—their father was probably as bad to everyone in the family as he was to Jamie. What I really wanted to know was the extent of it. The gory details Jamie and I hadn’t gotten to discuss.
From the very far side of the room, Jamie’s dad sat against the back wall, expression stern as he said a few words to one of the other sons. This son, Jason, had bright red hair and his shoulders curled into himself, as if he was currently being reprimanded for something he didn’t do. I could only imagine the nature of that conversation.
“It isn’t Dad’s fault exactly,” Doug said.
“Huh?” I asked, my focus jumping back to Doug.
“I’m not sure how much you know about our family,” Doug said. “I’m assuming a lot, yeah?”
