When I Called You Mine

Chapter Two

The breeze blows across my skin, cooling my hot cheeks, as I turn the page in "Frankenstein" by Mary Shelley. Before, Lia would read be the one reading this book to me. It was her favorite, something I couldn't understand until I actually read the book myself. "The concepts behind the story still pertain to society today," is what she would say. I'd call her a know-it-all and she'd laugh. "I just love it so much," she'd smile, her tongue sticking out between her teeth and dirty blonde hair falling into her face. Now, I read the book to her, if she can hear me wherever she is.

I clear my throat and read, "'Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change. The sun might shine, or the clouds might lour: but nothing could appear to me as it had done the day before.'" I stop reading, and lean my head back against her headstone, closing my eyes. The smooth granite feels good against my skin and I sigh, the words running through my mind.

"He's right you know," I say aloud, not caring that someone may be visiting a loved one nearby. The sun is setting though, and I doubt anyone is around. "Things haven't ever seemed the same since you left." A blue-bird lands on a branch across the way, and cocks its head at me as if wondering who I am talking to. I close the book and tuck it under my arm. I rise from my place on the ground and pick up the blanket, tossing it over my shoulder.

"I'll see you next week, okay?" I say before turning away from the piece of rock. The blue-bird ruffles its feathers, gives a quick chirp, and flies away. A familiar warmth spreads through my chest, and I smile the whole way to my truck.

***

Unlike most bars, Hidden Tavern isn't busy this Friday night. It's too much of a hole in the wall place to attract most college students. It doesn't even draw many of the older crowd. There's a man who's probably in his early sixties who sits two seats down from me, making him the only other person here besides the bartender.

The Tavern is dimly lit with two overhead lights that threaten to flicker out and never come back to life. The only option for seating is the bar itself as the building the owners rent out is too small for extra seating. No food, no music playing to cover the silences, just the sound of the bartender moving behind the bar and the occasional horn of a pissed off driver from the street. I like it this way.

"Do you want another beer?" a voice asks, and I turn my head to meet Samantha. My stomach churns when our eyes meet and swallow hard. She leans in to give me a hug and it gives me enough time to reserve myself. The genes are strong in Lia's family and her sister has her eyes, something I still haven't gotten used to.

"Yeah, I'll take another one," I say and feign a smile.

Samantha nods and taps on the bar.

"Hey babe," she says, getting the bartender's attention.

The barkeep, Jessica, looks up from cleaning a glass and sends Sam a smile. She takes our order and Sam's eyes watch her as she gets another beer for me and makes a whiskey sour.

"Jess says you've been coming here pretty often again," Sam starts.

I roll my eyes. I know they're both concerned, but they shouldn't be.

"I'm 24," I say. "Most people my age drink the whole weekend. I'm fine."

Samantha raises her dark eyebrows. Besides the eyes, she looks nothing like Lia. Sam has dark and thick hair, where Lia's was light and blonde.

"You're not most 24-year-olds," Sam says, taking a sip of her drink.

"How's work been?" I change the subject.

Sam knows what I'm doing, but I guess she decides to allow it when she answers.

"It's been okay. How is every office job? You wake up in the morning hating your life, stress out at work, then do that every day until it's the weekend."

"The American dream," I scoff.

Sam laughs deep in her throat, a small smile playing on her lips. The smile begins to fade as she circles her finger on the rim of the glass. I take a deep breath, feeling my heartbeat quicken and chest tighten. Ever since last year, every visit with Sam has a serious meaning behind it. She never calls me and asks to go to the bar for a fun time, there's something behind it. I can almost feel her looking for a segue into the heaviness.

"Mom and I found some of Lia's old things while we were going through the attic. She wanted to see if you'd like any of it."

I twist the silver band around my right hand before drinking a long draw of beer. My hand trembles around the glass, and telling myself to calm down doesn't stop the tremors.

"She could have just called me and asked," I mumble.

Sam cracks a sardonic smile.

"She says she's called you but you never answer."

That's true. Every time Sandra's name pops up on my phone I just send it to voicemail. I know I should be able to speak to her, but I can't. How am I supposed to face Lia's mother after what I did?

"She's not angry with you anymore." Sam places her hand on my forearm. It takes everything in me not to pull my arm away. I know she means well, but right now I would rip off my own limb if it meant getting out of this conversation.

"I know she's not," I say. I don't want to tell her that's not why I haven't seen her mom.

"Then come over this weekend," Sam says. "We can all look at some of her things together. Mom misses you and I know she'd love to see you."

I finish off the last bit of beer. I hadn't realized how much of it I've drank.

"I'll think about it."

I pull my card out of my wallet and tap twice on the bar. Jessica takes it and cashes me out. Sam doesn't say anything as I sign the receipt. I set the pen down and she finally speaks again.

"We all lost her, Carson. It's easier to handle with people beside you."

I nod and grab my keys, not acknowledging the advice.

"I'll see you later," I say.

I leave her sitting at the bar and walk into the street.