UNEDITED!
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Physically, I felt a million times better after taking the Epsom Salt bath. However, mentally, I was in a state of confusion. Bryson was to thank for that because spending time alone after that kiss allowed me to simmer in a thousand and one different emotions ranging from guilt to pure happiness.
No matter what I was feeling, however, I couldn’t help but fall back in sadness for I had no idea what Bryson was so upset about. It was just a freaking kiss! Yet, the way he stormed out of here you would have thought I’d done something really awful towards him...
Maybe he didn’t want to kiss me...
That was my conclusion as I buttoned and zipped up my black skinny jeans. Reaching over my bed, I picked up a loose, white cotton, V-neck, T-shirt that I got yesterday. Slipping it on I figured I should go and clear the air with Bryson.
Waking out of my room, I trudged across the small hall and stood in Bryson’s doorway. My eyes scanned the room before finally settling on Bryson who was lying on his bed with an arm laid over his eyes.
I knew he wasn’t asleep, so with a sigh I spoke up. “Listen, I just wanted to say that if what happened was such a big deal ... then forget about it.” I spoke slightly above a whisper. My voice wouldn’t go any higher because I didn’t want for us to just forget what happened due to the fact that it was electrifying -- the kiss. I, honestly, wanted nothing more than to have a long redo ... or two.
Removing his arm from his face and sitting up, Bryson looked over at me with his emotionless green orbs. “We should leave,” was all he said before standing up and picking up his brown leather wallet and keys off his night stand.
I watched in complete silence as shoved his wallet in his left jean pocket and clutched his keys with his right hand.
Bryson didn’t spare me a single glance as he shoved past me in the doorway and walked in the direction of the living room.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I closed my lids and made myself not cry for I knew I couldn’t show that his actions affected me.
“We have to go somewhere before we go to the funeral. So, hurry your ass up.” Bryson yelled from a room over.
Grunting, I backed away from his doorjamb and proceeded to go to the living room. By the time my feet touched the wood flooring of the living room anger was surging through my veins for at that very moment I realized he was now going to act immature by resorting to semi-ignoring me and what happened in the bathroom.
Throwing a glare in Bryson’s direction, I stormed out of the house.
The moment I reached his white mustang, I began to wonder how I even started dating him. He was, as of this moment, insufferable.
When I heard the car unlock, I got in and buckled myself while thinking about how much I regretted moving in with him.
Maybe, I should get him to take me back to my mother’s home.
I mean, why should I stay in his company if he is going to ignore me and what happened in the bathroom?!
Yet, of course I couldn’t go back to my mom’s. At least not until we have a nice long chat about what she plans to do to Peter in two weeks time.
Bryson got in the car and turned on the ignition. “You didn’t have to slam the front door,” Bryson muttered as he reversed the car out of the driveway.
“You didn’t have to storm out of the bathroom, ignore me suggesting a solution to the problem you seem to have about us freaking kissing! Then, on top of that, you didn’t have to push past me and use nasty words to get me in the living room,” I spat out with venom laced in my voice as I looked away from Bryson out of anger.
The car started to speed up down the road and I found myself staring aimless out the passenger window.
“We can’t kiss again, Elle. It is not right,” he spoke up a minute or so after my tirade.
Turning my head, I looked at him. “What is so wrong about kissing Bryson? Any couple does it? ... What are you saying? Are we not a couple?”
Clearing his throat, Bryson started to look intently at the road before him. “I never said that, Elle. It is just that ... you don’t have your memory. In your mind you are thirteen and for all I know the thirteen Elle could have never been kissed before and-”
“That is not true,” I interrupted. “Last year ... well, six years ago to you ... I kissed Ben Wilder at Ashley’s twelfth birthday party.” My statement was ended by me lifting my head up high in pride. I was not a prude like he so thought I was.
Bryson gave a deep chuckle, “your first kiss was with Wimpy Ben?”
Glaring over at Bryson I crossed my arms over my chest. “There is no winning with you!” I pouted with a huff.
“I didn't know this was a game,” he fired back with humor seeping in his voice and a smile stretched out on his face. It was evident that Bryson now was trying to turn this situation into humor in order to just ‘shrug-it-off’ for lack of a better phrase.
However, I wasn’t going to feed into his attempt to let go of what happened at the house. “Bryson, you are changing the subject. Stop being a chicken and man up-”
“Stop being a chicken? Elle, I am not afraid of talking to you about what happened. We kissed ... well, actually, you kissed me. Yet, all that aside it happened and will not, under any circumstances, happen again.”
Dropping my arms from my chest, I sighed. “Unless I get my memory back. Right?”
An unexpected sound -- a laugh -- escaped Bryson’s lips.
“What is so funny?” I inquired with an arched eyebrow.
Sobering up from his laughter, Bryson shook his head but remained focused on the road ahead. With the corners of his mouth twitching, once more, into a smile, he spoke up. “Nothing.” His reply was simple, but expected.
“Nothing doesn’t make you ...” I began to say, yet my sentence lingered unfinished.
Fear washed over me and my body sat rigid in the black leather seats of his car. My eyes were wide as I stared through the front window of the car. The one place I wished to never see again was becoming closer and closer as Bryson drove in the drive towards the “hospital. What -- what are we doing here? I-I-”
“Calm down, Elle,” Bryson spoke as he turned out of the drive that led to the front doors of the hospital. He eased his car into the parking lot and looked around for a place to park.
“Why-Why are we here?” I questioned with the horrid feeling that he was turning me back over to my doctors and forcing me to go back in the small room that I spent what felt like eternity in. I could see it now, the nurses dragging me in my room, muttering about tests they have to run. Dr. Rose telling me over and over that I will get my memories that everything over time will work itself out... “Bryson, please, don’t do this! I promise to be good! I will do anything! Just please, please don’t turn me back over to them!” I begged with every ounce of my being.
Bryson release a single chuckle as he pulled the car into, what seemed like, the only available parking spot. “Elle, calm down. I’m not ‘turning you back over to them’ as you so put it. I lied to you in the bathroom when I said you had two hours to get ready. The truth is the funeral doesn’t start for another three hours ... and see the thing is, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that if I’d told you we were going to the hospital, to see if you have any fingers broken or any other injuries from the other night, you wouldn’t come. Honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to drag you out of the house, which no doubt I would have to do if I had been honest with you from the beginning.” Turning off the car, Bryson unbuckled and unlocked the car doors. He reached out and touched the door handle but didn’t open his door. Turning his neck in my direction, Bryson looked at me. “Are you getting out or are we just gonna sit here all day?”
I blinked a few times as everything he said finally settled with me. “Uhhh ... yeah,” I replied as I began to unbuckle.
The familiar smell of Pine Sol filled my nose as we walked into the hospital. The woodsy scent, to which I now associate with this dreadful hospital, couldn’t help but make me cringe and grip unto the white sleeve of Bryson’s button up shirt as I walked closely behind him.
“Are you scared, Elle?” Bryson jokingly asked as he threw me a glance over his broad shoulder.
I straightened up and shook my head at him. “I’m not afraid,” I spoke with more confidence than I thought I could ever muster in my current situation..
Bryson shook his head. “Then why are you holding on to my sleeve for dear life?” He asked but this time he wasn’t looking at me over his shoulder because he was without a doubt smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
My eyes narrowed and I let go of his shirt. The moment my fingers released the cotton material I felt myself become extremely vulnerable. As much as I really hated to admit it, this place strikes fear inside of me ... as felt earlier when we pulled up. “I’m fine, you know? We really don’t have to come here.” I muttered as he opened a door that was labeled ‘Outpatient Clinic’. Looking at the ajared door that Bryson was holding open and I started to wonder if Bryson actually expected me to walk in the loud room that the sounds of crying babies and chattering people permeated out to the hall at which I was standing in.
Bryson closed the door and turned to look at me in the hall. “Elle, I can promise you that you will not be admitted back here. But, please, go in this clinic willingly. I really hate to cause a scene ... plus, don’t you want to know what is wrong with your hand? I mean, if anything beneficial that could come out of this it is the fact that the doctor can give you some really good pain medicine. Now stop being silly and come on,” he stated as he reopened the clinic door.
I knew he was right, I was acting silly.
With a big inhale, I walked into the clinic with my chin held high...
****
Bryson sulked as he walked towards his car and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Bryson, if I’m not mistaken, it looks like you are pouting.” I stated with a wide smile.
Currently, Bryson was acting like a child that just got in trouble because Dr. Rose, who I found out was Bryson’s first cousin, went off on Bryson for not picking up my headache prescription from the pharmacy. He about crapped his pants as she started to yell at him and say that it was under their agreement of my early discharge that he got my medicine for me to take if I get headaches. His excuse was that he forgot.
Of course, Dr. Rose didn’t accept his excuse and made him go to the pharmacy while they took an X-Ray of my hand and back.
Even though Bryson promised I was going to be fine in the absence of his presence and that he will be right back, I still felt on edge while he was gone. I couldn’t help but twiddle my thumbs and nibble at my bottom lip nervously while he went to go get my medicine. The entire time he was gone I was living in fear that he left me here and Dr. Rose was going to admit me and run more test on my brain to see if there was progress on my ‘condition’.
But, lucky for me Bryson was quick and he lived up to his promise.
It surprised me that she didn’t say or ask any questions about the injuries I got due to the mean mall cop. Yet, I was thankful. I knew that today at the funeral I would have to explain to a few people what had happened to me, because I know for a fact that the curiosity of the people in this town have not changed in the past five years.
However, Dr. Rose did ask me if I was getting any of my memories back and I told her a white lie: no. The reason I told her that was because Bryson was staring at me as he also awaited my reply. And as I sat there under his heavy stare I knew that I couldn’t tell the truth or he would flip shit faster than pancakes -- excuse my French ... So, I lied and as words of falsehood leaked from my mouth I kept praying that Dr. Rose wouldn’t find the fact that I have not been getting memories as an excuse to place me back in a room here at this dreadful hospital.
To my relief she didn’t think that, instead she placed a hand on my shoulder, lightly, and said to give it all time. Another good thing she told me was that nothing was broken and she was calling me in some pain medicine but that was not said without her giving Bryson an evil eye and telling him that if he didn’t pick up the medicine in the next eight hours he would get an ear full from her...
“I’m not pouting,” Bryson muttered as he pressed the unlocked button to the car on his key fob.
Rolling my brown eyes I smiled wider. “Whatever you say, BryBry.”
Bryson reached his door and looked over at me. “What did you call me?” He asked in a low tone.
I put my hand on the passenger door handle but made no move to open the door and get in. “... BryBry ... why? ... Is that ... Is that what I use to call you?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
Bryson stared at me with his intense green eyes. The settling sun kissed his dark brown curly hair making it look lighter. Half his face was casted in light and the over half looming in a light shadow. After studying him for a second my eyes glanced at his pink lips and as an involuntary action I licked my mouth as I started to feel the desire to kiss him once more.
“Come on, we are going to be late,” Bryson said as he opened his door and got in the car.
It took me a minute to recover from zoning out and thinking about how it felt to kiss him earlier and how it would feel to kiss him again.
Sighing, rather loudly, I hopped in the car and buckled up. “You didn’t answer me.” I spoke as he started to reverse out of the parking spot he had parked in when we first got here.
As the car eased out of the parking lot and the hospital drive, Bryson remained silent and had a focused look plastered on his face.
“Are you going to resort to ignoring me, once more?” I bluntly asked with curiosity to if he was going back to the lame, but common, tactic of not speaking to me.
Bryson gave a noisily exhale before parting his lips to speak. “It wasn’t you that called me that ... it was Kat. Her grandmother and my grandmother were friends. When she moved into town she became a frequent visitor of my grandmother’s home, to which I spent most of my time at ... We never really communicated then and up until she died ... but when she came over to my grandmother’s home and when she saw me at school or an event, she loved to make me mad ... like you ... One way to tick me off was by calling me BryBry, which I hated and of course she knew that...” Bryson trailed off and I began to realize what he was thinking of before.
He was thinking that since I said that I must be remembering that she use to call him that ... which, to him, would mean I am getting more memories back. However, the truth was I have not had a memory of Kat saying anything about Bryson. Hell, the only memory of her that I have had was the one in which I made her cry.
“Oh...” I replied. “... Ummm.... so how far are we from the funeral place?” I inquired in hope to fill the silence that was beginning to blanket the air around us.
“We are here, actually.” He told me as the car pulled up to a huge grey brick church that looked more like a castle with nothing but stain glass windows that had figures etched out on them in a wide variety of bright colors.
“What is it going to be like?” I asked once Bryson had the car in an available spot a few yards from the front doors.
“Well, friends tend to sit on one side, the left. The family will be seated on the right. Kat’s casket will be placed at the front of the alter. If it is an open casket funeral then her coffin will be open for people to view her and pay their last respects ... Some will talk about her during the service and the priest will more than likely say some prayers and closing remarks ... After the service everyone will get in their cars and will follow a hearse, which is a car that will hold Kat’s casket, to the cemetery where they will have another ceremony -- that will be short -- where they will bury her...”
As Bryson spoke I gave a nod in understanding every few words. When he was finished I inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly. “Sounds like you know a lot about funerals.”
Shrugging his shoulder, Bryson answered back coolly. “I’ve only been to one ... but, I just know how this works.”
I could tell there was a story behind the one funeral he went to and every fiber of my being was itching to ask whose funeral he attended. Yet, I bit my tongue because I could tell he didn’t want to elaborate on the funeral he went too.
“... Are you ready?” He questioned.
I looked at the church and kept my lips in a fine line. “Ready as I will ever be...”
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A/N:
Wanna thank my best friend TheFirstWinterSnow (Maddy) for making time out of her busy schedule to read this! Thanks bunches!
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TheFirstWinterSnow comment:
Okay, so I've read this story (awesome story btw) quietly, and haven't commented yet. Sorry for my laziness :(
Anywho ... Nevertheless ... I have a few words to say to you Miss Savvy! You are a cruel, cruel woman!
All these cliffhangers ... You're killing me! Gaa! You love my misery, don't you? >:(
Lol! Anyway, all 'crazy-shouting-woman-for-no-reason' aside ... I really loved this chapter, and every chapter leading up to this :D Can't wait for more!
Also, one more thing. I really like Bryson. Yes, he is a bit (maybe more than a bit) of a jackass most of the time. But, he's the good kind of jackass! ( if that makes any sense whatsoever ... I really am sorry for my random weirdness ...).
Haha! Again, I really love your story Savvy! I hope you update soon! :D