Dear Kaylie Jane,
Once you said "you weren't good at words." And you're not. You're shit at them.
And that's why my dumb ass loved you.
KJ's POV
"So you're not talking to me anymore?" I ask her. My calendar put Charlie's trial fifteen days away, and Ms. Lea had me meeting with her just about every one of those days. Which was cutting into what I had to assume was Charlie and Ella time. Which didn't help either of their trust of me.
"It's not my fault you're in here," I reply, "Help me and I can help you?"
She crosses her arms and smirks. It's one of the few emotions that she showed me in awhile.
"How about we talk about houses?" I suggest, "I live in the country with my friend, Vinson. Who did you live with?"
She's silent. "Who do you live with now?"
Nothing. She glances at the clock quickly, trying to hide it.
"You wanna get out of here don't you? Got someone to meet?"
He response is still nothing. "Alright," I push a pad of paper to her, "Draw me one thing--- just one thing--- to clue me in about you and you can go."
She glances at the paper then back at me. "I promise. I know you don't want to keep her waiting."
She takes the paper and draws what has to be the most obscure thing she's ever drawn for me. Then she tosses it back on my desk and leaves. God that was like pulling teeth.
Eventually my time comes for me to go and I head out. As I lock up, I notice my encouragement box was getting low. I make a mental note to get it filled again, then head out the back.
On my way out I receive a call and answer it, "Hey?"
"Are you still in town?" Beck's voice comes out clear over the phone.
"As always," I reply, locking my office for the day, "What's up?"
"I never got to show you my apartment! Come over!" He rambles off an address and I hurry to put it in my phone. "Got it."
"And don't come empty handed," he says before ending the call.
I make my way out the back and to my bike, ready to go home. "Ms. KJ!"
My reflexes are just sharp enough to catch a football hurdling at my head. I toss it back at the boys from which it originated then realize someone waits for me at my bike.
"Ella?"
"Hey," she stops leaning on it, "What's going on with Charlie? Why is she seeing you so much?"
"I don't know," I respond, tired and annoyed, "It's not like I'm her counselor."
"I'm serious!" she exasperates, "I'm worried about her! She's---"
"She's fine," I answer, "And you know I can't talk to you about her case anyway. Now do you mind?"
She moves away from my bike and I straddle it, "Anything else?"
"No ma'am," she heads back into the house and I pull off, heading to Beck's.
On my way there I pick up a bottle of my old vice, Fire ball. I hadn't had a drink since my twenty-first, but right now I wanted to get wrecked. I also grab some cheese and expensive bread, which I assume is what you bring to adult.
I find his apartment with no problem and buzz in, making my way to his door. I knock and he opens the door, engulfing me into a hug.
"Rough day?" I follow him into that what would be considered the living room of his studio apartment.
"What makes you say that?" I question.
"This fireball is open," he holds up the bottle, "And missing some."
"Consider it a taste test," I joke.
"Uh, consider it you're not driving home tonight,"
"Of course not," he points me to the glasses and I pour another shot. It burns like gasoline on the way down, but tastes like red hots after.
"So what's going on?" we take a seat on his couch. "And are you feeling Indian food tonight?"
"Go for it," I for the bottle again but he snatches it up, "Mind waiting till the food's here?"
I stick my tongue out at him and he rolls his eyes, "You're a child. Whoever choose to put you in charge of any is so stupid it's unfathomable. Speaking of your kids--- Is it the mute one? Or the sassier one?"
"It's starting to feel like both,"I laugh, "One's mom is going to court in a week. If she pleads not guilty, and she will, I have two weeks to get her talking. Or at least something. Nobody knows what went on in her house but her and her mom. We need her story."
"That's tough. And the other one?"
"She's so secretive," I shake my head, "She won't tell me anything about herself. And what she does tell me I don't trust. She leaves most of our session early."
"Have you considered applying some pressure?" he suggests, taking a seat next to me.
"I don't want to push them off the edge," I sigh, "I don't want to push them too hard."
He gives me a long look, "This isn't just about them is it?"
I blow out a puff of air, "A lot's happened since high school, Kid."
"Tell me about it," he nods, not pressing me on the matter.
"So Layne is talking to me again," I change the subject, "She's making us go on a date."
Layne's POV
Since I don't have to take the bus to work, I stop for food, relishing in my freedom. The way the car rumbled. The smooth roll of it's tires. This car is so familiar. Yet another thing I didn't remember.
Still, now that I have it, it feels familiar. Familiarity is more than what I had before. Empowered, I call KJ. Something else I probably had before.
She answers at the second ring. "Hi, Jane," I say her name as I always do. Sort of sing song-y, mostly because I know it bothers her how I say it.
"What do you want?" she sounds annoyed. But it also sounds forced.
I turn into a Taco Bell drive thru, balancing my phone on my shoulder, "Right now? I want a chicken quesadilla and Baja Blast. But from you? I want to teach you something."
"Teach me something?"
"Teach you something," I repeat, "You gave me my license so I wanna give you something. What can't you do?"
"Get rid of you apparently," she laughs.
"Ouch. You don't really mean that," I take the comment in stride, "You wouldn't've answered the phone other wise."
She's quiet.
"That's what I thought," I smirk, "Where were we? Dinner?"
"No thanks," she replies, "I don't even eat food."
"So what do you eat, hm?" I wait for her response, only to be met with silence.
"Look, Layne---"
"Before you shoot me down again---" I cut her off, "Be aware that I will keep calling you until you say yes."
She lets out an impossibly long exhale, "Fine. Do you know how to skate?"
"Yep," I say, "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
I hang up without answering her, not wanting her to fight me on this again. The cashier hands me my food and I pull off, pulling into a parking spot to eat.
Something flashes in my head.
"And don't call me bae. Pick something else."
Suddenly I'm in a truck, laughing with her. Kissing her. Always kissing her.
I shake the memory off. I was sure that's what they were by now. I just didn't understand what they meant. Had we dated? If so, where was she when I was in my coma? What about after? Five years had passed and I'd heard nothing. And the only reason we talked now was because of me.
I was starting to remember so much. But I couldn't seen to grasp what happened between us. It was bothering me.
I finish my meal and drive into work.
***
"Hey, Layne," Bren is waiting for me at the door when I clock in, like always.
I nod to acknowledge her then head to the bathroom to change into my uniform. Rarely did I allow myself to be caught outside in it. The other day an example of why.
"Did you get a knew car?" she's still there when I come out the bathroom.
"Something like that," I pull my impossibly long hair into a ponytail.
"You should give me a ride sometime," I glance at her, and can see this is her version of flirting with me. It's cute that she thinks she's being cute.
"Maybe," I reply. As a hoe, I like to keep my options open. You never know how desperate you'll get.
God, I sound like Ray.
"Alayna!" Chris yells at me, "Stop flirting and do you job!"
KJ's POV
I wake up with a raging headache, but am otherwise fine. I'm in Beck's bed, and I can hear him snoring softly on the couch. I check the time, and see I've just enough time to get ready and make it to work. I look down at what I'm wearing and realize that I'm in the outfit from yesterday. I break into Beck's wardrobe, searching for a new collared shirt.
"What are you doing?" Beck sits up, able to see me across his open studio.
"I need a new shirt but everything you own is so... Bright and bubbly," I reply.
"Oh well gee, sorry my style is too gay for you," he replies, "Check my bottom drawer. I call it my 'Family reunion' drawer."
I pull out a plain blue shirt, "Thanks."
He appears behind me with a glass of water and ibuprofen. "Have a nice day at school, sweetie," he teases, and I head out.