Pet Project, Trista, Post 7

Despite my brother’s considerable muscle, I soon heard the undeniable sound of footsteps approaching. Shit, ran through my head. I tried to push faster, but I had little left. This day had beaten me. My heart pounded in my ears to the beat of my gasping breath. I skidded to a halt. “No,” I gulped. A stream, well more of a stream: a big, long, wide chasm of fast rushing water. I glanced behind. He was close. Without meaning to I whined; the footsteps came faster. Andrew knew exactly where I was now.

The water was freezing, and everywhere. I lost myself as well as which way was up or down and the fact I couldn’t breath in water. My mouth filled with the icy liquid and there was no way to cough it out. I didn’t want to die tonight, especially not like this. Somehow I managed to find the surface and struggle oxygen into my lungs and most of the water out, but I was moving. Down river and no where near the other side. A rock appeared next to me the next second and I tumbled back under. The fear and loss of thought drowned me again faster than the water did. There was no hope this time. I was finished with no way out.

Something snagged me, I fought, though I wasn’t sure why. This had to be me dying. It had to. But the thing pulled right back, and hard. Within the second everything changed, I was out of the water and back into the air. I strived to be back in the drenched sanctuary. That was what my body knew now, it had become accustomed to drowning in those few fatal moments. “Trista,” came a loud, bellowing voice. My eyes flashed open. “Trista! Girly, come on. Trista!” I breathed as something hard and firm pounded my back.

I was alive. Choking, gagging, terrified, soaked and my throat felt like it would never cease being in pain, but alive. After my fit and my breath became halfway steady again I looked up. “Joey,” I more gurgled than spoke.

“Are you okay,” he asked frantically grabbing my shoulders. I simply looked, I didn’t have an answer for him. “Can you speak,” he said slow and deliberately. I nodded. He looked at me funny. “Can you prove it?”

I shook my head and coughed again, “Yeah.” My voice didn’t sound much like mine, but at least something came out.

He smiled, just a bit. “Can you breath?”

My power of thought returned. “Well I’m talking, right? Then I guess so.”

He grinned, but he eyes read relief. “Thank hell,” he whispered. “Are you nuts,” he said suddenly serious. “Why did you jump in? You could have died. There was no way you could have gotten across that.”

I shifted from my hands and knees to sit. Exhausted seemed like and understatement. “I had to.”

“Why,” he sputtered.

“Andrew was chasing me, he, he was going to-”

“No, Trista, I came after you. Donnie dragged your dad back. I tried to tell you that, didn’t you hear me?” I looked at him funny and shook my head. He sighed, “You nut job.” Joey’s smile turned soft and doting. I flushed.

“Sorry,” I said bashful, “Guess I had something else on the mind.”

He laughed. “Don’t sweat it.” I felt myself sway for a moment as my eyes grew heavy. As it happens, drowning and passing out in the same day makes you a bit tired, it felt as if my head was forty pounds. “I should get you home, you look beat.”

“Home,” I asked skeptically.

“Home, camp, the words become synonymous after a while.”

“Then I dread that day.”

Joey gave me a sad look, “Come on.” He got up and offered his hand. I took it graciously and thanked him for catching me when I nearly toppled over again. “Wow,” he grinned, “you really are tired.”

“Oh, hush up,” I said bumping into him, but as we walked the feeling grew heavier and before long I felt as if my feet would never move again. Joey stopped in front of me.

“You’re done aren’t you?”

I nodded, “So very, very done.”

He smiled gingerly and brushed a hair from my face. “I missed you, Trista.”

My cheeks were on fire, “I missed you too.” With that he scooped me up like a rag doll and began to carry me back, something I usually would have protested, but not tonight. Being held in Joey’s strong arms close to his warm chest while his heart beat into my ears was far too peaceful a place. I did not fall asleep there, though. Mainly because I didn’t want to leave this happiness, so I simply let him take me back and I watched the trees pass.

“Thank hell you found her,” my brother said as we entered the small clearing.

“I got lucky,” Joey replied setting me near the fire and sitting close.

“Why’s she so wet?”

“Jumped in the river.”

“What,” he yelled. I groaned at the loud noise. “Oops.”

“She thought it was Andrew coming after her so she jumped to try to get away. She was scared is all.”

“That things got to be freezing.”

“Trust me,” Joey said taking off his damp shirt, “it is.”

Just as I was about to drift off Hannah comes over with worry all over her. She collapses next to me and stares at me close to the ground so she can see my face. “Oh, Trista! Are you okay?” I nodded. “Do you want anything? Are you cold? You must be freezing.”

“Just tired,” I said closing my eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” I watched her scurry off then looked at the two men with eyebrows raised.

Joey laughed. Donnie gave me a lopsided smile, “She’s a softy.”

Hannah brought me a blanket and pillow and I accepted them graciously. “If you need anything, you let me know, okay?” I nodded absently. She sat close to me and brushed my hair from my eyes. “You poor dear.” My eyes shut to ignore the pity. I didn’t want it.

Suddenly I found I could not sleep, despite my exhaustion. I suddenly felt like there was empty air around me, and it was driving me mad. My brother sat next to Hannah, still close to me and I could feel his eyes watching me in case he had to protect me again, but he didn’t feel the hole. A small frown formed on my face. Then as if on cue Donnie came and sat to the other side of me, the distance between us was timid, but close enough to have meaning. The emptiness subsided instantly and I didn’t give another thought until the next morning.

Pet Project, Trista, Post 6

When I woke up everything was just a little fuzzy and I had no idea where I was, but no panic filled me. I was still tired. “Uh,” I grumbled blinking. What was this this pale thing in front of me? A sheet? No because it was flat out next to my bed. Like a wall. Yes, a wall made of a sheet, that’s what it was. A sheet wall?

I rolled over and looked around. “Oh fantastic,” I muttered as my senses came back. “Just what I wanted to see: a tent and a bunch of crummy cots. Wonderful!” I sat up and my head spun for a moment. A groan escaped me and I clutched my head. “This is going to be great,” I whined. Nonetheless, I rose and walked to the mouth of the tent an listened through the pounding of my head. A bunch of voices, mostly men, some laughter. No trace of Dad’s voice, no one said “Andrew.” All good signs. “Please, please, please,” I whispered as I gripped the curtain. It pulled open slowly, just enough to stick my head out. He wasn’t there. I sighed and smiled just a bit as I recognized some of the faces lounging around. I strolled quietly out and stood behind a relaxed and burly man named Royce with a ridiculous hat on. I pulled his bill so I could see the front.

“Tree Hugger,” I quoted skeptically. He looked up at me surprised. “You loose a bet or something?”

“Trista,” the large man asked bewildered.

“Der,” I said grinning.

“Holy shit, Trista!” In a split second he was up and I was on his shoulder like a potato bag. I yelled. “How the hell are ya?!”

I would have answered had he not began to spin around causing me to both squeal a laugh all at the same time. “Let me go you big ugly ogre!” He practically threw me down as the world continued spinning.

His laugh was the same old bellow he had for years. Royce had been the one with a mustache in seventh grade and a voice change at about ten. “When the hell did you wake up, lazy bones.”

“About twelve seconds ago and now I feel like crashing all over again, thanks to you.”

“Oops,” he said grabbing me and pulling me to sit next to him. Being too rough was not in his vocabulary, he was the reason I had my first broken arm and he was damn proud of it. “Sit you’ll feel better, have some whiskey, that’ll help.”

I gave him a look, “I’m sixteen, Royce.”

“Pshttttt, that never stopped me.”

“You’re disgusting,” I hissed sounding maybe a bit too real. People all over laughed.

“Perhaps,” he said with a shrug.

“Nah, you pretty much are,” came Johnny from across the way.

“But only Trista could say it and not piss you off.” The simple, sweet, reasonable Lawrence came from behind and ruffled my hair. “We missed you Trista,” he said quietly in my ear.

I snorted, “We?”

“Most of these gents are too man to admit it, but it’s true. You’re everyone’s sister.” I flushed.

Another old friend, an half Irish guy named something that no one could remember but was called Bloodhound leapt up and yelled. “Trista!” He charged me and tickled me relentlessly while calling me a multitude of offensive Irish names in a thick accent. Finally, I smacked him enough to stop.

More and more swarmed and welcomed me back. Donnie was right. They had missed me, and it felt wonderful. I had nearly all of my family back now, even if we did have different last names.

Suddenly, someone cleared his throat loud enough to be heard over everyone. I looked back as people shuffled to make way for . . . Andrew, my father, was back. Silence grew as all eyes and minds watched to see just how this would play out and who would end up scared by the time conversation was over.

“Trista,” he said low and emotionless.

“Afraid so,” I mumbled leaning back.

He frowned, “Where’s my wife?”

Donnie stood behind him looking pale and anxious. “You didn’t tell him,” I asked through my voice breaking.

“No, I- I don’t know why, but I, ah, can,” he stuttered. He looked vulnerable, not a good thing with these thugs, but no one said a word. No one could truthfully say the were not afraid Andrew.

I sighed and yet again rubbed the bridge of my nose. “No,” I said bluntly, “You can’t.” When I opened my eyes to look up at him. My brother looked ashamed. “can’t say I blame you though.” I turned to back to Andrew, how to say this? It was the second time in just as many days I had to tell someone about Mom, but this time was cast in a whole new light.

“She’s not here,” is all I said to stall him while I tried to run this scenario in my head every possible way. Most of them ended with me getting smacked, I figured.

“Where,” he demanded.

“Plot 562 at the cemetery by Longston, where she was born. Guess it didn’t seem right burry her so close to the area she last saw you. Driving away with Donnie, the road right next to our town’s cemetery.”

He blinked a few times, “What are you talking about.”

“Mom’s gone, Andrew, buried next to our Grandma Gina we never met.”

His entire face rumpled, “What the hell are you telling me?”

I sighed, annoyed this time, I was so getting hit. “Mom is dead.”

Andrew stared at me. This was the longest he had ever looked at me since I could remember. Out of nowhere he grabbed my arm in a death grip and hauled me to the trees. My back was pressed to the most uncomfortable piece of bark I could ever have imagined as he nearly crushed my arms in his hands. “Do you think you’re funny? Trying to make me look like a fool in front of my people?”

“No I-,” the pain made me wince as he tightened his hold.

“You stop with the lies! Tell me where she is now!”

“Dad,” came a voice from behind. “Let her go Dad,” Donnie said slowly moving towards us.

“Just as soon as she tells me where your mother is.”

“Pops, please just-”

“No,” he roared and slammed me against the tree. My had head spun too many time for one day.

“Dad enough! She’s not lying to you!”

It all fell silent. Andrew looked at Donnie. “What?”

My brother’s head fell, “It’s true Dad, Mom’s gone.”

Andrew dropped me and walked to his son, breathing hard, “But that can’t be . . .”

“It is.”

The man looked confused, then alert, “Did they get to her?”

“Nah, nah, it wasn’t them.”

“Then how,” he whispered, “How?”

“She, she, ah shit. She-” Donnie struggled.

“She took two of your old razor blades from the bathroom and slit her wrists,” I said from behind. “That was the only thing in the house she had left of yours. She just wanted to be close to you those last minutes, I think.” It was true, that’s what the detectives told me, I just had to make the connection of why. His breath was truly labored now. He said nothing for a long time, I almost wondered if he had heard me, but no. He knew exactly what I said, and what I implied. His fault.

My father turned slowly to me and it took all of my effort not to look away. He just stared and the feeling of not knowing what he would do next made my heart go faster with each passing second. I was scared. Scared to my core and beyond, but I couldn’t let him see that.

He charged me, not in the friendly way Bloodhound had, but full of rage and pure hatred. I believe he had every intention of killing me there on the spot and would have, had Donnie not held him back. I jumped up quickly and my eyes doubled at the look on his face, no I wasn’t truly scared before, but now I was. “Dad, stop,” Donnie said in his struggle. He looked at me for a split second, but I already knew what my brother would have said so I took off. Sprinting through trees and jumping over branches and logs. This run was not like my run earlier that day. Oh no. This was out of terror and for what I believed to be my very life. He was going to strangle me or beat me or something. I wasn’t entirely sure what method, but I didn’t really want to find out.

Pet Project, Trista, Post 5

We were in his car within the hour. East. That was all I knew. “Hey Donnie,” I said slumping under the seatbelt in the crammed back seat.

“Yeah?” He glanced at the rearview mirror with a bored look on his face.

“Just think you should know something.”

“What?”

“How severely you suck. I mean you suck like a sucker fish. You suck as much as fresh baked cookies are delicious,” I said referring to the old saying, hoping put him on a bit of a friendly guilt trip.          

It didn’t work. He simply laughed, “I know, right?”

Hannah sighed and rolled her head to look at him. “She is right, you’re a greedy bastard and you thoroughly suck.” I smiled wide from behind her.

“Oh, I’m not that bad. I’m just following orders, and ladies, you don’t know what could happen if I don’t,” he said a bit more somber.

“Who gives the orders anyways,” I asked flat toned.

“Dad,” he replied shaking the turning signal until it worked, and after the corner.

I zoned out the windshield for a moment, if it had to do with father, I bet I could guess how things operated. Hannah swiveled to look at me with a pitying look on her face. I smiled a lie, “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” she said pouting for me.

“I’ve dealt with him for over sixteen years; a couple more days can’t hurt.”

She squinted at me for a moment. “If you say so,” she said staring. I didn’t want her to see the tears in my eyes as I quickly turned my head to the window. My home town disappeared and the worry in my stomach arrived uninvited. Still we drove, I closed my eyes tight just so I didn’t have to see my life go to hell all over again.

Outside of my own little world I heard my brother flinch and complain. I opened my eyes and saw Hannah give him an annoyed look and her head jerk towards me.

“What do you want me to do,” he whispered, not knowing just how obvious their conversation was.

“She’s your sister, Donnie. You know her better than I do, say something.”

“Like what? Babe, you don’t understand, there’s nothing to say. In our family things are the way they are, no matter how much it hurts.” I didn’t turn to look at them but I could guess his face, looking out the window with pinched eyebrows and half his mouth scrunched to the side. Uncomfortable. Thinking about the man he loved as a father and thinking of me; the fact we could never be happy with each other should make him feel odd.

“There’s always something.”

It was quiet I looked over just enough to see him begin to shake his head. “Not always, not always. You don’t understand . . .”

She made a frustrated noise, “Then make me understand! You know me, I won’t give up on this. I’m a hopeless softy.” He said nothing. “Donnell, I remember you talking about her. All the time. Because you missed her and you wanted to believe that she was still alive, still happy. You even admitted to me that if you ever saw her again that you’d do anything to fix that void you’ve always had between you. Donnie I don’t want to see you lose your sister again, and I know you don’t want to.”

My brother curled over toward the steering wheel. “I don’t,” he said gently. “I want to fix that void, more than anything, but it’s not mine to fill. That void is my Dad, the way he looks at her with disgust, if he looks at her. The way she looked at him as a little girl with crayon drawings of the two of them holding hands, all that hope that this would be the picture to make him change. All she wanted was a smile, a hug maybe, but no. He just told her to put them on the desk. I remember the day she watched him crumple up a picture and throw it away. That was the day she grew up. When she realized the world was a terrible place, and there was nothing she could do about it. I found her in her room crying softly. I asked her why, and you know what she said?”

Hannah swallowed hard. She shook her head, but it seemed like she was more telling him she didn’t want to know.

“She told me that Andrew didn’t love her. I said no, that he was her Daddy and that wasn’t possible. Trista looked me right in the eyes the way a little girl should have to. A little girl shouldn’t even know that face. She said, “No, he’s your Daddy, he’s nothing to me, just like I’m nothing to him.” After that there were no more crayons, no more make-believe, no more tag or running around in sprinklers. Just a broken, sad woman, in a too small body.”

Her head on her knees, Hannah was shaking her head; she opened her mouth to speak then closed it again. Finally she said in a quiet voice, “You’re right. I don’t understand.”

“I still don’t think I do. Dad’s always loved me, a very proud father and all that, but after that day I can’t give him the full amount of love in return. My sister means too much to me, despite his attempts to break our sibling connection. But trust me on this, when you see him look at her, you’ll understand why there’s nothing I can say, and you’ll believe me that he truly does not care about Trista.”

I sat in the back biting my lip as if that could keep the sound of sobs from breaking through. I remembered that picture, too. Three days I had spent trying to make that the best it could possibly be, which, to a girl of my age, seemed like a very long time. He hadn’t even bothered to look at me he just said, “Put it on the desk.” I did happily, respecting that he was busy. I had crept to the door of his study to see if he had looked at it yet. Three times and still nothing. But the fourth, the fourth changed everything. Donnie had it right. Crumple. Throw. Sit back down to read. No emotion. Nothing.

I tore my head from my memory quickly. “I need out,” I said through a sob. They both darted to look at me. “Pull over,” I begged, “Please!”

“Trista, what is it,” he said slowing down.

I started fighting with the door handle and gulping for air. “Trista!” He yelled as I began to run. That’s all I thought: run. I couldn’t see a thing with the tears, but I didn’t care, I just needed to get away. They were both calling for me. Didn’t register. Running felt good, nothing but passing landscape. No me. I was vaguely aware of someone behind me but I forced myself to believe that he would never catch up. However, he had my arm the next second, I slid and fell and he pulled me close to him. His arms tight around me wouldn’t let me escape, not that it kept me from thrashing. He was speaking to me but I wouldn’t hear. My thoughts were yelling at me, but I wouldn’t hear.

I screamed. Loud and long and painful. I ran out of breath. I screamed still. My mind could handle no more and I collapsed into a world of darkness.

Pet Project, Trista, Post 4

I set the plates in the sink then rushed back to hug his enormous shoulders. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered to him. His eyes shut tight and he buried his head in my arm.

“I’m so sorry, sissy.”

“Don’t be, I’ve always blamed our sorry excuse for a dad. Well, he was always good to you, but me? I was a different story.” My gaze drifted to the last place I had seen him. In the living room, by the door, telling Mom he wouldn’t be back. Ever. Walking out just before he could witness her crumbling to the floor in tears. I knew the look on my face at this moment: flat face, brows slightly pinched, eyes dark, mouth on the verge of spewing a storm of immense hurt and anger. This was the only face my father ever received from me, the only one I ever wore when thinking about him.

Hannah—she really was a very sweet woman—put a hand on my knee and smiled. I gave her half a smile back. “Thanks,” my voice partially plugged by the sob I was holding back.

Donnie scanned me over, he looked guilty. I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I’m going to have to see him, won’t I?” He nodded. “Son of a-” I hardly caught my tongue. I let out a harsh short laugh in place of my curse.

“Will you tell us what’s going on now,” Hannah was nearly begging. “It’s driving me crazy.”

“Yes,” I added, glad for the subject change.

“Um, uh, about that . . .” He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You’re not going to tell us!” The both of us screamed in unison.

He shut his eyes tight at our bark, “Oops.”

I threw my arms up in defeat. Shaking her head, obviously perturbed, Hannah asked, “When then? When we meet up the rest of your little group?”

“It’s not my fault,” he exclaimed desperately. “Dad told me just to wait. To see what the situation was when we met back up.”

“Ha! Of course, Dad’s keeping the women in the dark. Typical.”

Donnie wouldn’t look either of us, until Hannah scooted to the edge of her seat, closer to him. Her hand rubbed his upper leg and her soft eyes grew still more gentle.

“Babe, can’t you tell us anything?”

As if under attack he reared back, putting his hands up in surrender. “No! You’re not putting that gorgeous, girly, making-dudes-melt magic on me again!”

She gave him a cute smile, “You think I’m gorgeous?”

“No,” he said with force. She pouted just a bit. “No I mean, of course I do. Hey, wait,” he jumped up. “You are just trying to confuse me. Hu-uh, I’ve fallen into that trap way to many times.”

She gave him an innocent look. He shook his head furiously, “I’m gonna go get our stuff ready to go.” He darted out the room.

She looked at me and gave a feeble shrug. “Guess I haven’t mastered the art of manipulating him yet, thought I may as well just try.” You could tell she felt a little bad for her trick. The option of her being too sweet rose into my mind, but I believed her just to be kind.

I grinned, then flashed a reassuring smile, “I like you.”

She flushed and turned her head down a bit, embarrassed. “Well I like you too Miss Trista.”

I wandered over to the sink with a beam on my face, it had been longer than I could remember since I was truly happy like this. Surrounded by people who I loved and who felt the same. People who didn’t just think of me as a nobody or a hassle or that kid who lives on her own. A general scar to their society.

A hand grabbed my wrist as Hannah was pulling me from the dishes needing to be washed. “Oh please, let me.”

“Nah, you’re the guest,” I insisted looking back at her.

“No. You made it.” I began to protest again. “Besides you need to go get ready to go.” She shoved me out the door. “Go!”

I chuckled and strode down the hall. “Thanks,” I shouted behind my back.

“No problem, lady,” she said dubbing me with a pet name.

My room was something of a mess. I made a pact to clean it at least once a month, but it turned out to happen more like once every three months. I was immensely glad it was half way decent when my brother came back. One glance around helped me none in deciding what I needed to take for . . . this. Whatever this trip was all about, wherever we were going, either way it guaranteed to be interesting. I sighed and gave my dresser a doubtful look, “Oh boy.” I snatched a duffle bag from the side my bed and peeled it open, clothes flew in and back out as I tried to guess just what in hell I was getting into. Eventually I had a bit bag full of jeans, two sweaters, and a lot of full coverage tops and all my savings locked up tight. The money I had been hoping to use for something fun would now most likely be used for a hospital bill after I go uncorked at my father. Exciting. Donnie poked my head in the door just as I was giving my proof of will power one last look.

“Hey, what cha dooooin’?”

“Getting ready to go,” I said glancing at him over my shoulder.

He came and stood next to me. “You don’t want to go,” he said simply.

“No, I just don’t want to see him.”

“The guys will be there,” he said bribing me.

I snorted, “Yeah but they’ve all been with him for so long. They can’t all be the same as they were, some of them will have picked up his beliefs. Don’t try to tell me it’s not so, I know it’s true.”

“How do you know if you haven’t seen them,” he said giving me a small hopeful smile.

I looked at him blankly, “You’ve changed.”

He looked down and sighed, “That much, huh?”

I shrugged and looked out my window; it was going to snow here soon. “Not a ton, but enough.

He sighed. “I used to think that I was still the same guy, but one day I realized it too. I’m not the same.” Donnie looked at me. “I wish I could go back, back to before we left and we were all just happy.”

Not all of us, I thought, I can’t be happy while he’s near.

He wrapped his huge arm around me, “But we can’t, can we?”

“No,” I said bluntly and twisted out of his grip. I heard him make a quiet exasperated noise as I walked over to my desk and grabbed a hair tie, looped it onto my wrist, another, another, another. His eyes stayed on me, I could feel it, but he headed toward the door after a moment.

“Donnie,” I called suddenly.

“Yeah?” He poked his head back in.

“If you could go back in time knowing what you know now, would you still have left? Without saying anything? Without even looking? Would you have left at all?”

He looked away and bit the inside of his cheek. His mouth opened-and shut. “Trista I-” Didn’t finish.

“Don’t answer that that,” I said as tears welled again. “I shouldn’t have asked that. I don’t want to know. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, sis, I’m sorry.” For a second I thought he was going to give me the honest answer, but he turned to the living room.

Pet Project, Trista, Post 3

When I woke up I was still on the couch, a blanket tucked around me. It was still early and the house was supremely quiet. I rolled into a sitting position and wrapped the blanket over my shoulders, I had never been a super thin girl, I was bulky, but I no longer gave a shit. The door to my room was closed and I just barely heard my brother's snore. Couldn't say that I blamed him, his room was storage now--Mom hadn't wanted to think about him leaving so she filled it with anything that didn't already have a place. There was no way that he would want to stay in Mom and Dad's old room after what happened, so I forgave him for leaving me on the couch. I sighed and walked into the kitchen and amazingly found some eggs and sausage that Donnie hadn't made disappear yet and began to cook. There was something about sizzling meat and stirring food in a pan that relaxed me. Before long I relaxed and let my shoulders hang. It was a cold morning and the heat of the stove warmed my hands.

Lost in my own world where there was no death but the pigs that contributed to the sausage, but at least I didn’t know them, I didn’t realize the house coming alive behind me. “Hey.” I jumped about three feet in the air and nearly dumped the breakfast all over. It was Hannah who was standing in the doorway. “Sorry,” she said again with a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said blinking.

“You didn’t have to do that you know.”

I frowned, “What?”

“Well, make a meal for us.”

A grin spread onto my face, “Who said it’s for you?”

She laughed, “So you’re sarcastic like your brother, too?”

“Yeah, sometimes, but don’t worry. I’m not as bad as him though.”

“I don’t think anyone is.”

I smiled to myself. “How long have you two been together?”

“Nearly seven months, we met when he and his posse came to my little town a while ago and we hit it off, as he would say.”

I couldn’t help but cock and eyebrow at seven months, not that I wasn’t happy. It was probably good for him. “So I take it you’ve met our father then?”

“No,” she said simply. “It was just him and a few others.”

“Like who, if you don’t mind me asking. I haven’t seen most the guys he would hang out with in a long time. Some of us were pretty tight.” I thought of one particular and smiled at the memories. I shook my head back to reality and set a plate in front of her.

“Um, there was Marty and Ricky-”

I snickered. “Ricky-Dick.”

She smiled wide, “That still bugs him.”

“Good,” I said felling accomplished that the nickname I gave him stuck through all this time.

“There was one more, too. Dang it, I can’t remember who though.”

“Who we talkin’ about?” Donnie was stumbling in the door.

Hannah spun around quickly, “Who were the guys you were with when we met? There was Marty and Ricky, but who was the third?”

“When we first met? You forgot? Well I feel special, I remember everything about that day.” He sat down next to her and pulled her close. She giggled. “You were wearing blue jeans that made your ass look amazing, even though it always does. The shirt was purple and you had a black coat on. You-”

She finally hit it in the arm, “Yeah, I think we get it. Now I was asking about your friends, smart ass. My mind was pretty fixed on you so excuse me if I don’t remember your pal’s name.”

“Don’t try to save yourself, the hurt has been made.”

“Donnie I didn’t mean to-”

He burst out laughing, “Chill, sugar. I’m just kidding. It was Ricky, Marty and Joey with me that time.”

Joey, I repeated in my head. God damn I missed him, I thought about him more than anyone, once my anger was averted to Donnie as well as my father. Joey was shy and sweet, but the greatest guy-friend I have ever had, not that the rest of them weren’t great. He just had always stood out. Mainly because he was never afraid to be seen with me and would give others hell if they took the teasing of me too far. No matter what I could trust that idiotic goofball. I found myself smiling as much as I could.

Donnie put his plate down, pulling me away from the memories I held dear. I looked at him and he grinned in a way that worried me, “Miss him don’t you?”

I nodded, failing to reduce my smile. Despite my best efforts I was blushing.

“He misses you, too.” My heart was pounding in my chest, why?

He chuckled at me. “Shut up,” I said grumpily.

“I didn’t say shit.”

“Oh my God,” Hannah mumbled suddenly, her mouth full of food.

“What,” Donnie said worried.

“These are the most amazing eggs EVER.”

I laughed, “Thanks.”

“No, seriously.”

“She’s right,” my brother said gulping. “They ain’t half bad.”

“Well, good,” was all I would say.

“How would you know,” Hannah said eyeing Donnie, “You just inhale them.”

I bust up and he gave her a look. Donnie stuck out his tongue and we continued to eat. I noticed my brother eying me suspiciously. I groaned, “What?”

“Since when do you wear make-up?”

Without a thought I responded, “Since I had to provide funds for myself and reverted to selling my body to any takers.”

He was choking on his enormous bite, coughing and wheezing. I tossed my head back cackling like mad, eventually curling in on myself nearly crying.

“What???!!!” He bellowed and shot a glance at me, sending me into another fit.

“Thought you would like that little bit of info.”

“Trista May Fraton, you better tell me what the fuck is going on here.”

I wiped the tears from my checks, still catching my breath. “Oh!”

“TRISTA!!!” He roared, standing.

“Take a chill pill, Donnie. I was just messing with you fragile morning brain.”

He gave me a stare that was anger mixed with concern. “You mean it?”

My eyes locked on him, “Promise.”

He sat back down, still staring at me, I rolled my eyes. From the other side of the table Hannah snorted. Donnie looked at her exasperated, “Really? You, too?”

She covered her mouth with her hands. “I’m so sorry; your face was just perfect.” She turned around to hide her laughing face from Donnie.

Irritated, he grumbled something under his breath. I got up and took the plates, stopping next to him, nudging him with my elbow. “Hey,” I said smiling gently, “You forgive me for this, and I’ll forgive you for ditching me to live my teenage life alone.”

Sadness and apologies filled his eyes. “No, not even that was enough to make up for what I did.”

Pet Project, Trista, Post 2

Turns out seeing my brother didn’t come soon enough, school seems long as it is without having to wait to see someone, because that just makes it all the worse. When the end of the day finally rolled around and the bus finally huffed and puffed its way to my corner I found myself nearly running to my door. Donnie threw the door open before I reached it “Where the hell have you been? It’s like four!”

“Oh, yeah, we get out of school later than when you were around.”

“Ah,” he said relaxing and flushing a bit.

I wandered into my house, and, of course, there was food eaten and out. “Haven’t lost you’re appetite I see. Looks like I’m going broke.”

            Someone giggled from behind me. I jumped and spun around. A woman was sitting on my couch and smiled. “Sorry, she said politely, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Hannah.” She held out her hand and I shook it slowly.

“Um, who?”

“Crap, I forgot to tell you. This is my girlfriend, I’ve been hauling her around with me.”

“Gee, make me sound like a worthless piece of baggage, why don’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to say it like that, all I meant was-”

She laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m only teasing, love.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their romantic joke. I laughed. “It’s fine, good to meet you.”

“And you as well.”

I shook my head as I remember why Donnie was here. “Hey, now will you tell me what’s going on.”

Hannah gave him a look. “Yes, please do.”

“You don’t know either,” I asked. She shook her head. “Jeepers,” I muttered.

“Look I’ll tell you all at once, but let’s just get Mom here first.”

They both looked at me. Hannah’s arms hugging his. I sighed. “That. Mmmm.” I sat heavily on the couch. “That’s going to be a problem.”

“What’s going on,” Donnie turned on his serious voice.

“I, well, I, I don’t know how to say this . . .”

It was silent. “What,” he demanded after taking all the quiet he could take.

“Mom’s . . . Mom’s dead.”

They sat there staring at me, I could feel it. I didn’t dare look up at them. An ominous moment hung over us. “What,” he said.

“She died. About a month after you left.” I was staring at the floor trying to keep tears from surfacing.

It hit him. He gulped and tried to catch his breath only to exhale fiercely again. He made that odd sound of sheer astonishment and anger. “Ho,” he said letting out every bit of breath inside his lungs.

“Donnie-” Hannah started, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He shook his head and ran his fingers through his long hair. “Shit,” he muttered. “Shit, shit, shit.” He got up and twisted to look at me. I couldn’t look at his face. “Fuck!” He yelled as soon as he saw the truth on my face. He paced a small circle around the room. I put my hands in my face. “FUCK!” He bellowed.

I let him have his moment. I knew that feeling well. Hannah got up to began to get up to comfort him. I grabbed her arm. She looked down at me distraught. I shook my head. She sat slowly down.

He plopped down on the floor beside me after a moment. “How,” he said quietly. His brow was ruffled as he searched the carpet back and forth for some kind of answer.

“Suicide,” I said flatly.

He wheeled his head around to look at me. “What?!”

“Yeah,” I said.

“What?!” He repeated. Mom had never been little miss always peppy, but she was never depressed, much less willing to kill herself.

“After Dad left she went buzurk. Guess she really couldn’t live without him.”

He looked back at the beige carpet between his opened legs. It was all sinking in. “After Dad left,” he whispered looking just slightly up. “Suicide.” He let his head drop lower. He closed his eyes and all was quiet. Quiet. “How,” he said firmer after an eternity of silence.

“Slit her wrists in the master bathroom,” I recited just as the cops had told me. Bled out. Not a homicide.

He sighed once more.

There we sat. Consumed in our own thoughts and memories. I felt the tears spill down from my eyes when they could take no more. A sob broke from my chest and within seconds I was bawling again. It had been awhile since I had cried over my mother. We never had been as close as I had wanted, but that was just all the more reason to miss her. “I’m so sorry Donnie,” I choked out. He turned to look at me. I curled up putting my head in my hands and my hands on my knees. He slowly got up and sat next to me, rubbing my back gently. I curled sat up and put my head on his chest and cried into him. He pulled me tight to him and let his hot tears drip into my hair. Fuck was right.

Fuck.

Pet Project, Trista, Post 1

I was sitting there in textiles class sewing another log cabin quilt. Seem up, seem down, same old, be bored, repeat. Then, of all the times for him to show up, in he waltzes. I just looked at him for a moment, it was difficult not to let my mouth drop and eyes double in size. It had been over a year since I had seen my brother. He was just the same as ever. Tall, dark, handsome, he was buffer than I remembered but other than that nothing had changed. Well, he looked nervous. Hell yeah! He better be fucking worried, leaving the way he did just to come back unannounced and in my high school of all places.

"Donnie! It's been so long since you have been back to visit." Mrs. Franco was one of those teachers who probably should have retired fifteen yeas ago but kept going either just to prove she could or to ruin everyone else's hopes. She liked very few people and clung to them like a leech. Donell, was regrettably one of them.

"Yeah, I've been busy." Oh real good excuse, dumb ass.

"I bet you have, you were always such a good worker in school. What ARE you doing these days, dear?"

"Um . . . I ah, I need to talk to my sis. Can we continue this chat later?"

Franco did that creepy thing where her face twitched into anger then reverted back to a smile in less than a second. "Of course deary," she stalked off to tell someone they did something wrong the way she always did when she got angry.

            He pulled a chair over to me and plopped down. He smiled. I really wanted to slap that damn sweetie smile off his ass-a-nova face. "Hey sissy."

"Don't you dare call me that," I hissed through tight teeth. He raised an eyebrow and fear rose up in his eyes. "'Sissy' is something you call a sibling you actually care about, not someone you ditch out on."

"Sissy I-" I cut him off with a glance. He sighed, looking depressed, he didn't like this me. The one where I hated him, it was new to him. Not me though, I'd been pissed since a month after he left. He never wrote, called, anything. And he had meant the world to me. When Dad would hardly look at me and Mom would be busy off her rear, Donnie had always been there. He was a good brother. Or at least he used to be.

"Trista, I only did what I thought would be best for everyone. I didn't know what was happening to me. I was scared, and stupid. When I figured it out I realized that I was far too dangerous to be around you and Mom. I only wanted to make sure nothing would happen to you."

I spun in my seat and looked him straight in the eyes, hoping my tears were minor. "Then go. You just said it's for the best."

"I think I might have been wrong."

We had been speaking quietly as not to let the others know how demented our family really was, but that was it. "You think?!" I bellowed it out. Everyone jumped and was staring. Donnell had reared back in his seat, eyes bulging. I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose and dragged him to the hall by the scruff of his shirt. He stumbled along, partially he was still stunned by my sudden outburst and partially because I was so much shorter.

“You think you might have been wrong,” I said regaining control of myself.

“Yeah,” was all he said. He was looking down at his feet like a child being accused of stealing another cookie.

“It took you nearly a year to get that through your thick skull.”

“Well, yeah. I was sure that if I stayed away from you, you would be safe. These crazy people wouldn’t be after you and Mom, but obviously that’s not the case.”

“Crazy people coming after me? What the hell? What are you talking about?”

He looked around him as if something might jump out from the wall and tackle us. “This isn’t a good place to answer that.”

My eyes were wide open and I was completely lost. “Again, and I’m going to say this real slow so you can understand: What. The. Hell?”

He sighed and all of his composure was gone. His true emotions burst out and all at once he looked desperate and terrified. “Trista, for the love of all things oven baked and gooey, let me get you out of here!”

I stood blinking at him for a minute. For the love of all things oven baked and gooey was kinda our catch phrase. It kept us out of naughty word trouble and we really did love our freshly baked cookies. His hands were gripping my arms and squishing them to my sides frantically. He was begging, and my brother didn’t beg. Ever. He gripped me tighter. I closed my eyes and winced. “Donnell-" I whined.

“No,” he protested. “I’m not being irrational or crazy or whatever. You need to come with me.”

“Donnie, no, you don’t get it, you’re hurting me.”

He looked down at his hands and instantly let go. “Sorry,” he yelped.

I pulled up my sleeves and there was a big red, sore spot where his hands had been. “Oh, that’s totally bruising.”

He moaned. “Shit. I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to.” He looked incredibly guilty; he had always been more emotional than most guys, which was why girls flocked around him.

I sighed, “I know, don’t sweat it. I’ll be fine.” My tone had softened and I had officially given in, but for good reason. Sorta. I could tell he meant every word of what he said and truly thought I was in danger. Dam sibling connections. “And yeah, I’ll go with you.”

In half a second he changed modes entirely, “Really? You’ll come?”

Mainly just for effect I gave him a suspicious look. “Only if you COMPLETELY mean it.”

“I do, Trista, I do. You have no idea how lucky I consider myself that you’re still even alive.”

“That bad, huh?”

He nodded gravely. And he believed it. He really thought I may have been dead. I finally started to worry. “I will come with you, but you’ll have to wait until school is over. It’s the last day before Winter Break and I just want to finish.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I can accept that.”

“You can go home if you want, but I’ll have to give you the key if you do.”

“Home would be nice . . .”

I flipped the key from my pocket. He reached out to grab it, and I pulled it quickly away. “Please don’t lock me out,” I moaned.

He grinned in the way I had missed. “I promise. Think I should try to go find Mom or wait for her to come home?”

My heart sank and I tried not to let it show. “Wait at home and don’t leave. We can talk about Mom when I get there.”

He gave me a puzzled look. I just smiled to cover up the painful slap of bad memories. “See you soon.”

Once more he gave me an odd glance, but shrugged in the end. “You probably know best. I won’t leave.”

“Thanks, and could you say that again?”

“What?”

“That I know best.” I smirked at him. He grinned and ruffled my hair.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, sis.” He turned and started to walk off. It was then I realized just how much I had missed my big oaf of a brother, and it was enough to run up and glomp him before he could leave. He squeezed me back.