Reclaiming the Sand
Page 22

And she looked after me. When I hadn’t been able to take care of myself, she was there. And she was the one person in my life who had never turned her back on me. She was all I had.
I leaned into the soft pressure of her fingers against the back of my skull. Shane leaned over, one hand still on the steering wheel, the other pressing the smoking roach to my mouth.
“Suck it like a cock, Ells,” he leered and I would have rolled my eyes if I didn’t feel like I was going to puke again.
I smacked his hand away. Even if he didn’t care about passing our random drug tests, I sure as hell did. I rolled the window down so I could breathe in some fresh air.
It helped. After a few minutes my stomach started to feel better.
Shane pulled into a field a few minutes later and our motley crew lumbered out in a giant heap. Reggie and Stu disappeared only moments after arriving. Dania, after giving me a quick kiss on the cheek, ran over to a guy who was sat in a lawn chair by the bonfire.
Shane, who had clearly been turned off by my outstanding version of The Exorcist, left me by myself on the outskirts of the party.
And then I was alone.
I was always freaking alone.
I leaned against Shane’s car and watched people I had known most of my life drinking, laughing, and enjoying themselves. It seemed so shallow and useless. My head was buzzing and I was a long way from being sober but the dope in my system was making me entirely too introspective.
The scene in front of me was like a frozen moment in time. Unchanging. The same thing every weekend. The same shitty beer and out of date music. The same people getting lucky in the back somebody’s van while the rest of the party got wasted. I could see Chris Donald’s fashioning a beer bong by cutting off the bottom of a milk jug and attaching it to a long piece of plastic tubing. I had seen him do this exact same thing a thousand times before. And I knew that in fifteen minutes he’d be passed out on the ground.
I watched Shelly Clements lift her shirt and show everyone her newest nipple piercing. Her tits, while a bit saggier than they had been in high school, were still large enough to get the guys’ attention.
Each of these people carried on, as if nothing else existed. There was a great big world outside the boundaries of Wellsburg, West Virginia, but no one seemed particularly eager to see it. And my friends and I fit right into this stagnant purgatory. Here I was, drunk and hating it. Sneering disparagingly but unwilling to turn that judgment on myself.
I turned away from the party and headed toward the thick growth of trees at the edge of the field. I could barely stand upright and fell down several times but I kept moving forward.
I disappeared into the brush and headed north. I knew these woods like the back of my hand and if I continued for a half a mile, I’d find the road. I would walk back to town. In my fuzzy, alcohol soaked mind, trekking the ten miles back to Wellsburg beat hanging out with the high school rejects.
Branches snagged at my clothes and my legs were getting scratched raw by brambles. A gnat flew into my mouth and lodged itself in the back of my throat, making me gag.
The farther I walked, the clearer my head became. The weed had started to wear off and my head was throbbing.
I broke through the trees expecting to find the main road and was surprised to find myself at the edge of a very familiar piece of property.
The moon was full and lit up the manicured yard in front of me. A house stood off in the distance, surrounded by a group of out buildings that I remembered all too well.
I blinked at the uneasy sense of déjà vu. In my mind’s eye I didn’t see the freshly painted structure with bright blue shutters. I didn’t see the repaired shed at the edge of the long driveway.
I flashed back in time and all I could see was smoke and flames.
I felt dizzy and my eyes filled with sudden tears that took me by surprise.
Not being able to stop myself, I started walking across the lawn. I was like a woman possessed and I felt like I was trapped in a time warp, marching the same path I had done on that particular night all those years ago.
I could swear I still smelled the scent of burning wood and I thought I was going to be sick again.
The grass tickled my feet by my thin flip-flops. I wanted to leave. I wanted to run far, far away. But my traitorous legs kept on going.
I stopped at the steps leading up to the house. I ran my hand along the obviously new bannister, recalling when I had watched it crumble into ash. My hands shook as I touched the new wood, cool beneath my fingers.
I looked up at the dark windows and wondered who lived there now. I wondered if they loved it as much as I had. For a brief moment in time this had been my sanctuary. I had been happy here. Well, as happy as a girl like me ever could be.
I heard a noise behind me and I dropped my hand from the banister as I stumbled backwards. I was trespassing and the last thing I needed was another run in with the local police department.
I hurried around the side of the house and hid behind one of the buildings that like the house had been recently painted. I could still smell the fumes heavy in the humid air.
“I can see you.” A voice rose up out of the darkness and I jumped. I couldn’t help my reaction. His sudden appearance freaked me out.
I pressed myself against the side of the building, feeling foolish for being there in the first place. Why hadn’t I left as soon as I had realized where I was? What had compelled me to venture onto the property in the first place?
“What are you doing here?” he asked me and I could barely make out the black silhouette in the moonlight.