Jaded

Thirteen

THIRTEEN

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“So are you ever going to tell me?”

I glanced over my shoulder in the direction the voice had come from. It was Parker. He was sitting on the counter with a paint brush in his hand. I dropped the clay onto the counter with a loud thud. “Am I ever going to tell you what?” I asked as I kneaded the clay. I had come into the Kiln early today. I needed to get out of the house or I was bound to lose my mind. My parents had spent all morning bossing around a cleaning crew. Why I wasn’t entirely sure. The house was always clean. After all most of the time no one was home. I pulled my attention away from him, dropping it back onto what I was doing. I continued working the air bubbles out, waiting for him to answer my question.

He sighed, returning his brush to the paper once again. “Well, I told you my whole life story and I haven’t heard anything about you,” he pointed out. My hands paused what they were doing on the clay as his words sunk in. I instantly felt dread claw at me. “It seems only fair.” I knew he was right but that didn’t make it any easier for me to breech. I hated talking about myself. It was rarely ever something I did lightly.

“What about me?” I asked hesitantly.

“Well, what about your family?”

I rolled the clay into a ball, making sure the surface was perfectly smooth. I was stalling, thinking about what I was going to say. Parker and I were—what were we? Friends? I wasn’t sure but I knew that we were something. I didn’t regard him the same as I had and I knew he didn’t think of me like he once had either. Regardless, he deserved to at least know something. “There isn’t a lot to say. My parents work all the time and are rarely ever home. I’m sure you’ve heard of them—Samuel Spelling, attorney and Olivia Spelling, dedicated doctor,” I said bitterly. Everyone knew my parents or at least knew of them. “And my brother is dead.”

I didn’t dare look up but I knew his eyes were on me. I focused on the clay, pressing my fingers into the soft mineral. “I-I knew that. I heard you with Eleri the other day. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know.” He fell into silence again. I knew without looking that he was weighing my reaction. “What happened to him?” he asked me finally. I could hear the hesitance in his voice. He knew he was on a delicate topic. I let out a breath that I hadn’t known I was holding. I dipped my finger into a cup of water, running them along the lip of the clay.

“He was in an accident. I was driving.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said.

I pulled my eyes away from the clay to look at him. I expected to see pity but when my eyes met his I saw none of that. He looked sincere. He looked like he understood or at least understood how I was feeling. What really bothered me was that he had grasped so much in only a few words. He knew without me telling him that I felt guilty—that I blamed myself. I didn’t know if I was sad or pissed. “Then whos fault is it?” I asked angrily.

He set his paintbrush onto the counter. He didn’t look at all surprised at my outburst. “We can spend our entire life blaming ourselves about something that happened,” he said, “or we can move on. You could waste time thinking of what you could have done different, said differently, or you can get over it.” I knew he was right. He was so damn right it pissed me off. It wasn’t a fucking revelation. I had spent nearly every second agonizing over details. I would think about how I should have done this or should have done that but I never once even considered just moving passed it. How could I when everything in my life still revolved around Pierce. He was what drove me to nearly everything I did in life. He was the starting point of every moment. How could I escape him?

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Every once in a while my parents liked to kiss up with the neighborhood. They would send around invitations and make a big show of the entire thing. It was a big thing, these parties. My parents would spend the entire day making sure the house was perfect. They cleaned everything. They made sure only the best people catered the party. They made sure each and everything was as it should be—including me. Especially me, I should say. I had to dress a certain way, act a certain way, and play the part exactly as they wanted.

“Darling, is that what you’re wearing?”

I glanced up from the mirror, looking at my mother. She was standing in the doorway of my room in an elegant white dress with her pale hair piled on top of her hair. “ Yes, I think it looks nice,” I said as I looked down at what I was wearing. I was dressed in a classic charcoal colored dress made of silk. It was simple but elegant. It was exactly what I thought mom would have picked out herself. Evidently, I was wrong. She raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow at me, pursing her lips as she did. This was a dead giveaway.

“I suppose it will have to do,” she said.

“What’s wrong with it?”

She waved me off. “Nothing, darling.”

I let out an exasperated sigh as she left the room. I turned back to the mirror, running a hand through the waves in my hair. I considered putting my hair up but decided against it. I would dress in whatever they wanted but I drew a line at my hair. I stood, leaving the room. I padded down the stairs. The living room was already filling with people when I emerged downstairs. I merged into the crowd, mingling with the guest. It was what they would have wanted. It’s what Pierce would have done. He could always amuse their guest as well as they could. I, on the other hand, tended to offend more than I amused.

I felt myself pause at this thought. I was reminded of what Parker had said earlier that day. I spent all my time trying to live up to Pierce. I lived almost eternally in his shadow. I carried his guilt and I carried his burden. When did it stop? I could never get away from it. It was in this second that I realized Parker had been right. I had to let it go. I had to move passed it. I could never fix it. It didn’t matter if I tried to do good by my parents or if I replayed every second of what had happened in my head. It would never change anything. I had to move on. I would never be able to start my own life if I was living Pierce’s. Thinking this, I excused myself from a group of people. I moved through the room, making my way to the bar.

“What can I get you, miss?”

“Champagne,” I told him.

The caterer poured me a glass, handing it over to me. I thanked him then I tipped my head back, taking a drink. “Spencer, there you are! I have been looking everywhere for you,” my mother said as she appeared in front of me. I finished off my glass, dropping it onto the table. Mom gave me a disgusted look. “You shouldn’t drink your champagne like that. It is distasteful. Why are you haunting the refreshment tables? You are supposed to be with the guest.” I pressed my finger into my temples. I definitely could not handle much more of that tonight. It was only a few seconds and already she was giving me a headache.

“Got it. I’ll be with the guest,” I said hurriedly. I pushed passed her and into the crowd. I had no intention of speaking with anyone though. I snuck out the patio door and into the backyard. The cool night air hit me, instantly giving me relief. I felt like a totally new person. Why had I spent so much of my time in the past? Parker had been right. I needed to move on. I only hoped it was easier done than said.

* * * AUTHOR'S NOTE * * *

Slowly, making up for lost time. I've also been battling some major Skyrim relapse, but this is done although its a little shorter. It was an awkward in between chapter although it was necessary. :) Hope you enjoy it! Comment and vote if you like too! I love feedback.