Second Chances

Chapter 9

"Sometimes the memories hurt more than the reality."

- Unknown

""No."

            "Please?"

            "Waverly, I said no," Terrance said rather coldly as he brushed past me and into the kitchen. Ever since he got home from work (four minutes ago) I had been trying to convince him to drive me to Brighton, but to no avail.

            I turned on my heel and followed him, pausing to lean against the island as he opened the fridge and pulled out a can of root beer.

            "But Terrance, Diana said she would pay me, and it's not like it's that far," I pressed.

            Terrance opened the can, took a sip, then turned to me, his normal playfulness gone. "I don't care what she said or how far away it is, because I am not taking you," he set down the can and crossed his arms, frowning at me. "Do you not remember what you were like when you modeled with Melanie and the other girls?"

            I did remember, and it haunted me everyday, but I always tried my hardest to push those memories as deep into my subconscious as I could. I didn't want it to start again, but I knew that tonight would be a one-time thing . . . right?

            "I remember," I murmured to my brother as I flicked my eyes away from his, suddenly not able to meet his gaze. I folded my fingers together and stared down at them. "But this is just a favor. Diana needs my help, and I feel like I owe her." I swallowed a lump that made an appearance in my throat, my next words coming out in a whisper. "She's helped us so much."

            Terrance let out a heavy sigh and I glanced up at him, catching the inner battle he was struggling with. "I know that, but Waverly, I can't let you do this to yourself again," he picked up his root beer and glanced at me. "I'm sorry."

            And then he was walking past me and to the futon in the living room that doubled as his bed. He plopped down and turned on the TV. We only got three channels, but one of them managed to interest him so he didn't have to look back at me.

            I shouldn't have been mad at him, he was only trying to do what was best for me, but the anger was still there. I managed to mutter out a "Fine," before I stalked back into my room and grabbed my purse off of the bed. I then slipped on a pair of brown boots and my jacket before making my way to the front door. I slammed it shut behind me.

*                                             *                                           *

It was only a five minute walk to the nearest bus stop.

            And as I waited, I pulled out my wallet and sifted through my change until I found the appropriate amount. By the time I had the money ready in my hand, the bus had slowed to a stop in front of me.

            The dark-skinned lady who drove it gave me a warm smile as I trudged aboard and deposited the change. I managed a small one in return before making my way down the aisle. There were only two other occupants on the bus; one old woman at the very front, and one portly fellow snoring at the very back. Seeing as I had never ridden a public bus before, I took a seat in the middle, right next to a map that showed all of the stops.