Beauty & Melancholy

Calla Jane Weary wanted nothing more than to be on her own with the freedom to make her own mistakes. Until her choices broke her and sent her back home filled with shame. Keeping secrets and wondering how to reconnect with old friends, Calla navigates her homecoming with help from her older brother Toby. Not to mention all five Lacey brothers.

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The protective family she had taken for granted, and had grown to hate as a teenager, becomes a welcome refuge as Calla finds the strength to stand on her own two feet.

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If you missed the first few chapters, no worries, you’ll find them below.  As of May, I’ve released six chapters — my June newsletter will include chapter seven.

Beauty & Melancholy: Chapter one

I had perfected the art of avoidance over the last four years.  Specifically of my home town.  Not going home was both the easiest thing in the world, and the most painful.  

College provided a plethora of reasons for me to stay away.  

If by reasons I meant excuses.  The drive was too long.  I had too much homework.  A paper due.  A test or study group to attend.  My job off campus took up all my free time.  I had my reasons to stay away.  

It started out an exercise in finding myself, in being Calla Jane Weary on my own.  Just a girl.  A girl without a big brother, without a broken family, without the horde of Lacey brothers.

I loved my big brother more than anyone in the world.  Toby.  He was smart and fun and always always looked out for me.  When things turned ugly with Daddy, he put himself in the way to protect me.  He paved the way for me at school and in town.  Sheltering me was a job he took seriously.  To say he was overbearing would be an understatement. 

I loved my family as well.  I didn’t want to, but I did.  I tried to turn my heart off, and tell myself I didn’t care for them.  The lies I told myself were never enough to convince my heart.

Mama was long gone, having taken off when I was a toddler.  My sketchy memories of her were more like photographs than reality.  Toby was seven then, and more impressionable.  Mama just up and left with no preamble one day.  Decided she didn’t want to live in a tiny house with two children and a drunkard husband.  We never saw her or heard from her again.  I didn’t miss her so much as the idea of her – the idea of a mother.  It was a powerful thing, the longing for a mother’s arms to hold me.

Daddy was good enough to us when he was sober.  Which was plenty when we were young.  By the time I was in high school he was drinking frequently.  I suspected he was doing some kind of drugs as well.  Toby stayed living at home longer than necessary, going to the community college, and working full time to boot.  He never had to say why he did it.  I knew it was for me.  He waited until I graduated high school and went away to college myself, before he got out from under that roof.  My brother gave up whatever dreams he had for himself to make sure I wasn’t left alone there.  It was a gesture too big to be paid back.   

I’d heard that Daddy was doing AA and trying to stay sober.  Only after a DUI and some jail time.  Toby said that Daddy was trying, that he wanted to set things right.  But everything was too broken for that.  I wanted nothing to do with that life.  Loving him wasn’t enough for me to want to see him again.

Then there were the Lacey brothers.  A five pack set of rowdy and rambunctious boys.  No one ever spoke of them without cracking a smile and retelling a story of something stupid one of them did.  Only they never said it was stupid.  It was a hundred other adjectives that boiled down to them being badass.  Those boys were legends in this town.  Every one of them.  I blame their Daddy – he started it all, him and his own troop of brothers that moved in and took over and made a name for themselves.  Of course my brother had to go and be best friends with one of them.  From the time they were in second grade Toby and Oz were best friends.  Stayed that way all the way through school and even now as mostly grown men.  The thing with being friends with one brother, is that you get the rest of them.  Package deal.  The Lacey’s took Toby in like he was one of their own – having him stay over all the time, bringing him along on trips, helping him and supporting him in any way they knew how.  All five brothers were tight knit and stuck together even when they went their separate ways.  Toby became part of that from a young age.  

Which meant I became part of it at an even younger age.

I don’t remember a time there wasn’t Oz.  For me, it was like having two big brothers.  I knew Toby was mine because he had my dark brown hair and eyes, he had Daddy’s cleft in his chin, and he stood between me and whatever the world had to offer.  Just in case.  I knew Oz was mine because he held my hand when I was scared, when I was left behind, when I needed more than just a protector.  I claimed him as my own, and he let me.  He never looked at me the way Toby did, like I was too little, and too weak, and needed someone to look out for me.  When Oz looked at me it was like I was sweet, and a little precious, and like all I needed was his hand to hold.  

I fell in love with the person he saw when he looked at me.  With the way he looked at me.

The other brothers all took me in too.  I was the little sister they never knew they wanted.  Five boys filled up a space, even one as big as theirs, and you’d think there was no room for an extra couple kids.  But they all had best friends that came into the mix.  And they all had me.  

I used to love it.  I was part of something good.  Something great.  I had this place where I could go and I was safe – my belly was full, and I didn’t have to worry about Daddy hitting Toby.  Anywhere I went, people knew my name, and knew to treat me carefully because they knew the Lacey boys were watching.  I did used to love it.  I loved walking the halls at school and waving hi to any one of them that was still there and having that feeling of acceptance.  I was popular by proxy.

It came with a price.  For one, they scared off any would be suitor.  I dated a couple times, off and on, some guy brave enough or dumb enough to take me out.  Mostly I was surrounded by these guys that loved me, but weren’t interested in me, and wanted to keep me a little girl forever.  They knew how guys were – being those kinds of guys themselves – and no one was good enough for me.  The biggest rule of all was that none of them dated me.  It was forbidden.  I was family.  

The price was that I was lonely in a life full of loving people.  The price was that I was in love with Oz and he would never look at me as more than his best friend’s little sister.

I went away to college, to some place that a Lacey boy had never gone to school, and I became my own person.  Free from their protection.  Free from what everyone thought they already knew about me.  Boys weren’t scared to talk to me because they thought Toby or Oz would kick their asses.  I could break free and live my own life.  I avoided coming home to visit as much as possible, because I knew if I went home and I talked to Oz, I would be hopelessly caught up with him again.  Without even trying he ensnared me in a net that I found nearly impossible to escape.  I stayed away because I would never have gone back home anyway – not to the house I grew up in or the man that I called Daddy.  

It became even easier to stay away after I met Gary.  

After all that time away, I was headed back.  To stay.  Every mile that brought me closer made me sick.  Excited.  Afraid.  Curious.  Ashamed.  I was a mixed up toxic mess of emotions.  

Somehow Toby convinced me to move in with him.  My brother’s place; in his extra room.  He peppered me with claims he was happy to be roommates and share the same house again.  Happy to see me every day, he said.  Happy to give me a place to come home to, he said.  I agreed to it, I think, because I was still trying to figure out the mangled leftovers of my heart after Gary.  I knew I would fall back into a life with too many watchers.  But I had decided maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.  I had decided maybe I needed watching over.  I didn’t trust myself.  

 

Toby’s house was a rental on the beach.  We had lived in town growing up – a mere five miles from the coast that felt like a hundred.  

I pulled in under the house raised on stilts.  It was a typical old beach house.  Sand blown peeling paint – a pale shade of blue bleached by the sun until it was almost white.  A driveway of broken shells.  I stood and stared out at the water and let the crashing of the waves welcome me home.  I had stayed away too long and I had missed this place with a ferocity that I hadn’t realized until too late.  The water my veins, the sand my skin, the blinding sun my heart.  I belonged here.  

I didn’t make it all the way up the stairs before Toby was coming down to meet me.  In a rush of gloriously tanned skin and a broad smile, he scooped me up.  In his arms, I was truly home, wrapped up in his anticipation and assurance.

“Sissy.”  He swung me around until I was sure we would both fall down the stairs.  I screamed.  “Damn, I missed you.  Let me carry this.”

He took my bags from me.  I let him, because they were heavy, and because it felt good to hand off some of the weight.  

The look he gave me said it all.  I knew he was sorry for the last four years, and that he felt guilty for not being there.  It was me that had kept him at arms length.  Especially after I got involved with Gary.  It was my fault.  I was sure my own guilty expression was evident.  We had a lot to talk about, Toby and me.  For now it was enough to be here.

“Go on up.”

He let me walk up first and followed behind.  It was this thing he always did on stairs.  In case I fell, he could catch me.  I remember him explaining when we climbed the lighthouse a million years ago, my legs wobbling as we walked the tight spiral of stairs up and up and up.  I smiled through the traitorous tears that were welling in my eyes as I made it to the balcony.  

“You’re gonna love it here.  Living at the beach is a dream.”

We had gone up the steps at the back of the house, the ones rooted in sand, leading up to a balcony off the living room with a view of the crashing waves.  He slid a glass door open and beckoned me inside.  I followed as he carried my things across the downstairs and up to my new bedroom.  The downstairs had only a long galley kitchen, a long living room that looked out to the water, and a bathroom that was always in some state of sandy and gross.  Upstairs were two bedrooms with a bathroom that he actually kept clean.  Thank goodness for small favors.  The design of the house was so that each bedroom was equal.  One on the east, one on the west, so that they could each have windows that looked out over the beach to the south.  They each had windows that looked out over the two lane road and across to the houses on the other side, too.  The bathroom was one of those Jack and Jill ones, with a door into each of our bedrooms.  A pass through.  A buffer between the rooms that guaranteed no privacy at all.  

“You have more stuff in the car?”

“Yeah.”

I sat down on the end of the bed.  It was a small room, but bigger than the dorm room I’d shared with Emily the last four years.  Last time I’d been here, this room had been filled with his work out bench with weights and pulleys that looked designed for torture.  And his drum set.  Now the room held an antique dresser with dark wood carved with swirls like vines, and an unmatched wardrobe with pale blonde wood and glinting crystal knobs.  The bed was a full size mattress and box springs on a basic frame.  He’d even put a little night stand on one side with a lamp that I would bet came from Target.  Tears threatened once again.  I looked out the window at the beach that was so alive outside my window.

“Everyone’s coming over later.  A welcome home.”

“By everyone you mean the Lacey’s.”

I tried to keep any bitterness out of my voice.  Toby didn’t know I had had a crush on his best friend.  

“Not all of them.”  He laughed as he sat down on the floor.  Dropped straight down and kicked his legs out across the wood floor.  “Bear will probably drop by.  Oz will obviously be here.  Rod is off doing some shit, training or whatever.”

Bear was the oldest.  Bernard Lacey.  Five years older than me, and one year older than Toby and Oz.  He followed in his father’s footsteps and went into the family business.  They owned a bunch of hotels and restaurants all up and down the Gulf Coast.  It meant a lot of travel.  It meant suits and ties and calming the fuck down.  At least most of the time.  

Oz was Oz, and I knew he was doing more and more with Lacey Garner Corporation these days too.  I wasn’t sure he’d ever fully commit to that life.  He wasn’t so good at sticking with one thing for very long.  

Roderick was the middle brother.  Two years older than me, and right between my age and Toby’s.  He was the biggest trouble maker of them all.  Last I’d heard he was training to fight, and I didn’t pretend to understand the draw or the details, but I knew he needed an outlet for all his energy.  

“Sawyer?”

Toby nodded.  He was the Lacey brother my own age.  We’d been best friends since forever.  Or at least until I stopped talking to him after my freshman year of college.  

“Hey, Calla, don’t be upset.  He’ll come because he wants to see you and because he wants to pick up where you left off.”

Was it that simple?  Sawyer and I could just go back to being close friends after I dropped him for the controlling boyfriend that couldn’t understand our relationship?  Gary didn’t understand the concept of platonic friends.  He’d thrown a fit every time I talked to Sawyer.  It was a shitty move, but I pulled back, and I stopped talking to my best friend.  I gave all of myself to Gary.  I broke so many ties I wasn’t sure they could be repaired.

Sawyer was a sculptor with his own gallery.  I had come down for the opening, but I snuck around and didn’t let him see me, so he didn’t know I’d come.  Last I’d heard he was working on a big piece for the city to go in front of the library.  It was kind of a big deal.  College was something he’d tried for a year, but he hated it.  Instead he struck out and did his own thing.  He did his own thing right here, with his brothers and family, without me.  And I was jealous.

“Milo will show, too.  How long has it been since you’ve seen him?  You’ll faint.  He’s big as Bear.  No lie.”

Toby was stretched out on the floor of the bedroom.  His legs were long and covered with soft dark hair; crossed at the ankle.  He tapped his fingers on the floor in a continuous rhythm.

The baby of the family, Milo Lacey had it worse than me with overprotective big brothers.  They put a stop to his shenanigans and acted like the fool hypocrites they were.  He had tagged along with Sawyer and me plenty though.  Because I didn’t mind not being the youngest for a change.  Because he was a sweet kid.  Milo was graduating high school in a few weeks.  It worked out well my school let out almost a month before his, so I would be home for the event.  

“No way!”

“Yes way.”  He stood up and looked at me with those deep brown eyes that matched my own.  He posed like a muscle man and flexed his arms until I was smiling and shaking my head at him.  “Now, come on, let’s finish unloading your shit.”

With a laugh at his antics, I followed him back down.  My feet walked my body around like I wasn’t on the verge of falling apart.  I wondered how long it would take for the house to feel like home.  Or if it ever would.  How long would it take to wear out my welcome?  How long before I wanted to run again?

Unloading took no time.  Three trips up the stairs with bags and boxes.  That was it.  I spent the rest of the afternoon holed up in the room unpacking.  There was a closet, but I put my clothes in the wardrobe.  Because Narnia.  I didn’t have sheets to fit a full size bed.  I made room for my things in the bathroom we would share.  I could just see the fights that would ensue with this set up.  It was like being children again as I imagined the way he’d pout after I moved his stuff around.  I checked the locks on both doors until I was satisfied that I could take a shower without him barging in to pee.  And flush.  

I didn’t have much in the way of clothes.  Partly because I was never into fashion, and blamed my beach bum childhood for that.  Mostly because I didn’t have the money for it, especially in college.  Back living at the beach, I wouldn’t need much.  I could live the next month in a swim suit or sundress with no problem.  I was actively not thinking about the job searching or the potential interviews in my future.  I wanted – needed – a chance to settle after the storm before moving forward with that part of my life.  I was floundering, and I knew it.  I was also unequivocally sure that putting off finding a job was the right answer.  I was in no shape to make life decisions just yet.  Including picking out clothes for a party which would feature a lot of people looking at me.

 

Me:  Help!

Emily:  I would, doll face, but I’m a million miles away.

Emily:  What’s up?

Me:  I’m home.  At Toby’s.  EVERYONE is coming over.

Me:  Wardrobe crisis.

Emily:  LOL

 

I waited, staring at the screen of my phone while little dots indicated she was answering me.  In the meantime, I paced the room.  When I passed the window for the nine hundredth time, I noticed it wasn’t a window but a door.  I slid it open and walked out onto the tiny excuse of a balcony.  Goes to show my head was up my ass and I had been paying zero attention to anything.  Having my own balcony should have been the first thing I noticed when I stepped into the bedroom.  Gauzy curtains fluttered behind me in the constant salty breeze coming off the water.  My fingers clutched the rough wood railing, as I let the beach begin to sooth my jangled nerves.  Waves threw themselves again and again onto the white sand.  The sun was near setting, and only a few stragglers remained on the shore.  Birds circled, diving through the air, and sank to snatch at unseen treasures in the water.  I breathed in the salty air and let it heal me.  

 

Emily:  First thought was the dark skinny jeans and your open back white tank top.  But it’s hot as hell down there, right?  So forget the jeans.  Your pink flippy skirt is killer.  You’ll slay them all.  

 

Emily had been my roommate all four years of college.  We were paired together randomly as freshman.  She was a sorority girl pep squad glitter happy bundle of blonde energy, and not my type at all.  Somewhere along the way we became friends, and we stuck together through the years.  She was what I would call my best friend.  Or at least my best girl friend.  My only girl friend.  Gary didn’t approve much, but then he never did.  The thing with Emily though was that she was my roommate, and he couldn’t do anything to keep us apart.  All the weeding he did, removing each person from my life that wasn’t him, didn’t apply to Em.  She saw both sides of him before I did, and liked to call him Scary Gary.  

 

Me:  Thanks.  

Me:  Miss you already.

Emily:  Me too.  Send me pictures of those gorgeous boys all coming to see you tonight.  

 

She included an emoticon of a devil, and a drooling smiley.  That was Emily.  

It wasn’t even officially summer yet, but I had to agree it was too hot for jeans.  I had driven home in cut offs and a t-shirt, and looked precisely like I had woken up at dawn and driven half the day.  I opened my bedroom door to the landing at the top of the stairs and yelled down to the lower floor.

“I’m taking a shower.”

I don’t know why I felt the need to tell Toby of my whereabouts other than to keep him from messing with me.  

“Thanks for the news flash.  Now I’ll know to send the guests up to you when they arrive.”

I could hear his laughter float up the stairs after his words.  My answer was a choice word back down to him before slamming my door.

I dressed in the pink skirt that fell just above my knees, and the white tank that tied around the neck, and around the middle of my back, and that was it.  Em had bought it for me and called it my Going Out Top.  The one sexy piece I owned.  No bra.  Just a slip of silky fabric draped over the front half of me.  I pulled my hair into a high knot and didn’t bother securing the waves that pulled free to tickle my face and neck.

Beauty & Melancholy: Chapter Two

Voices and movement became evident beneath me.  The party started in a trickle that quickly became a flood.

I stalled only a little, with a swipe of mascara, and a quick dab of lip gloss.  I slipped on sandals, but threw them back into the bottom of the closet which held the remainder of my boxes.  Things I never intended to unpack. 

Beach house.  Sand as a yard.  Shoes were not a necessity. 

Joy flooded me at the prospect of a life in which shoes were not necessary. 

My stomach writhed with nerves.  I craved the strong arms and watchful eyes of my brother and our friends so strongly now.  With distance between us, and with Gary always there to tell me no, I had let years come between us.  Now I ached with longing for the ones I had left behind these last few years.  Still, I nerves claimed me.  Toby and the Lacey’s had every right to be mad at me.  The idea of hurt on their faces tore me apart.  Worse, the idea of fake smiles caused inexplicable pain in me.  Then the idea of their notorious anger directed at me, made my fingers shake.  I had to force myself to leave the room and move down the stairs. 

The spring sun had set on our early evening, and darkness cloaked the beach around the little house.  The doors and windows all swung open letting the cool breeze rush through the space.  A barbecue like any other.  It was my family – my chosen family – come together. 

My lips stretched into a wide smile as the scene came into full view.  Milo and Sawyer were using lacrosse sticks as swords and battling across the living room.  Toby’s voice reached me from the kitchen, talking too loudly over the clacking of the sticks, about a keg of beer. 

Yep.  Home. 

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I watched Milo and Sawyer play fight, knocking into furniture and making a heck of a racket.  Milo had changed considerably, as Toby had said – big as his biggest brother.  Tall, broad chest, huge arms.  But the same sweet smile and blue eyes.  Sawyer was different too.  He’d grown his hair long and it hung golden at his shoulders, swinging around his face as he fought with his brother.  They were glowing – in their element – and smiles cracked their faces wide open. 

“You’re gonna break those, then Bear and Oz will have to kick your asses, and it will ruin my party.”  I had to break the silence. 

I had to make them look at me – to test the waters and see their reactions. 

Of all the brothers, I knew Milo would be the easiest win.

Sawyer, I wasn’t quite so sure of, but figured we’d work it out later. 

The one I who scared me the most was still no where to be seen.  Maybe he wouldn’t come at all. 

No, Toby said Oz would be here.  He was probably in the kitchen with his best friend.  Or outside manning the grill. 

“CJ!” 

Milo tossed his lacrosse stick at Sawyer – who caught it with his left hand while he still held his own in his right hand – and ran at me.  Scooping me up with ease, he spun me around and around.  My little Milo was a man now.  Or nearly.  It was hard putting the lanky fourteen year old I had left behind in the brawny body of this eighteen year old.

“Hey, Miles.  Milo.  You’re …”  He sat me down and I took him in.  I looked to his pale sky-blue eyes that were bright beneath his brown brows and sandy hair.  He was the only one with their mother’s blue eyes.  “Well, look at you.  You’re all grown up.”

He shrugged like no big deal.  The way he looked back at me, like he was enjoying the view, was new.  With a shake of my head, I  slapped him across the chest. 

“Stop checking her out.  Geez, Miles.”  Sawyer shoved his brother out of the way and took his place in front of me. 

My eyes stung with unshed tears.  My heart burned with pain and guilt and elation. 

“Hi, Callalily.”  He hugged me.  Tight.  His arms were around me and it felt like a million types of forgiveness.  His breath moved in my hair and grounded me.

“Hi, Sawyer.” 

“I missed you.  So much.”  He still held me.

“Me too.  I’m sorry.”

I spoke into his chest.  He was the slightest of all the Lacey’s.  Which meant he was only six feet two, and less than two hundred pounds.  My nose filled with the salty-air, bubblegum scent of Sawyer Lacey. 

“So you’re done with him?”  He asked in a grim tone.

He said him like he was really saying the evil prick that hijacked your life the last 3.5 years.  If he only knew the truth, there would be so much more venom in that one word. 

“Very done.”  I admitted on a breath.

Sawyer nodded as we pulled back from each other.  Looking at him was very much like looking at Toby in that it was achingly familiar.  Like I knew his face better than my own. 

“I’m glad you’re home, Calla.  Really glad.”

He left one arm around me.

“You seeing anyone, Saw?”

“Nah.  Couple blokes.”

He had taken to calling the guys he dated blokes back in high school.  It was funny and it stuck, and it was so like him. 

“Anyone coming tonight?”  I hip bumped him as I asked.

I almost said:  so I can meet him, or so I can approve.  I bit back the words as I tasted the tang of hypocrisy and irony in my mouth. 

“Nope.  Tonight is about you.”

I stayed snuggled into his side while he walked me toward the kitchen.  I wanted to drag my feet to delay the inevitable – I wasn’t ready for more.  Not yet.

“You want a drink?”  Milo asked, too eager and bouncing around like a hyper puppy. 

“Not from you, little boy.”  I winked and giggled, and he made a show of looking offended.  “It occurs to me that we are all of drinking age.  Except you.  Ha!  It’s not me and Sawyer anymore.”

Our laughter tangled together in a way that was new and old, fresh and familiar. 

“Shut up.  Like you’re so much older than me.”

I was four years older than Milo.  Just like Oz and Toby were four years old than me.  It wasn’t that much older.  Not really. 

Not now.

We rounded the corner, out of the living room and into the kitchen.  It was packed with bodies.  I had been so focused on Sawyer and Milo, letting them distract me, I hadn’t paid attention to the other voices.  Bear and Oz were both in there with Toby.  Also Mike and Liam, boys from school a few years ahead of me.  They’d always been around too, just not as much as the Laceys.  They were all talking over each other and drinking whatever beer was in the sweating keg on a pedestal in the kitchen.  It was a chorus of male voices and stories that interlaced, and laughs that rang out loud. 

Everything stopped when Sawyer ushered me into the room.  Each set of eyes drank me in.  The silence was weighted – heavy with worry, curiosity, and expectation. 

“Well, shit.”  Bear was the first to speak.  To break the spell that had stalled time.  “Look at you, all grown up.”

“Funny.  That’s what I said to Milo.”  My voice sounded wrong, too high and pinched.

“Y’all aren’t kids any more.  That’s for sure.”  Bear grunted, his face uneasy.

His eyes grazed over my body and I felt the burn of it.  Bear was only a year older than my brother, but he had always seemed so much older.  He had always been the leader of them all and set the pace.  The peacekeeper.  Kept the boys in line when needed, urged them on when needed.  He was the biggest of them, too.  Six five, burly.  Blonde curls cut close to his head and sea green eyes. 

He hesitated, unsure, then stuck his hand out.

“Are you crazy?”  I laughed.  “I am not shaking your hand.  Jerk.”

I moved from under the security of Sawyer’s arm and threw my arms around Bear.  He hugged with a tentative pat to my back.  His broad warm hand on the bare skin of my back.  His embrace immediately stiffened around me.  My sexy going out shirt might prove to be too much for this crowd.  The other boys in the kitchen hadn’t seen the open back – not yet.  Saw didn’t care.  Milo was probably drooling somewhere behind me.  The others?  They’d lose their shit after they noticed.  Bear cleared his throat, and as we pulled apart, his face was a warning. 

Mike and Liam muttered cursory greetings, time having carved a wedge between us, making things awkward.  They gave me brief and friendly hugs.  Liam’s eyes lingered a little too long; I rolled mine at him.  They went out back, to the deck, to the arrival of a few other friends.  Set up camp out there, giving me a wide berth, and giving me time alone with the brothers.  A few girls I sort of knew from school were flocking around the guys like vultures. 

“Calla.”

My name on Oz’s tongue was a dangerous drug.  It worked it’s way into my system and made it impossible to feign indifference. 

He moved into my space and gazed down at me.  Oz has always been my favorite Lacey – not that I didn’t love them all.  And I was certainly closest to Sawyer.  But I had loved Oz for so long and in such a different way.  I felt sure it all leaked out from my eyes as I looked up at him. 

“Hey, Ozzie.”  I managed, my tongue thick with emotion.

“Jitter.”

I shook my head.  No one was into nicknames like this bunch. 

Bernard was always Bear.  Except to Miles who called him Big. 

Oscar was Oz to most, and Ozzie just to me. 

Roderick got shortened to Rod, but he was also known as Pod.  His bigger brothers called him Pod when he was born, because he was the baby then, and like a little bean pod. 

Sawyer became simply, Saw. 

Milo was Miles.  And Baby Bro.  And Little Kid.  Or just Little.  And a string of other terms of supposed endearment to remind him of his place. 

They all had names for me too:  Calla, Callalily, Jitterbug, or just Jitter.  CJ, for Calla Jane.

“Don’t call me that.”  I half joked, stricken to hear Jitter cross Oz’s lips.

I watched a crease form between Oz’s bright green eyes.  Green like spring grass.  We were on rocky ground at best.  But then, it was me who had crushed on him, not the other way around.  He should be like another big brother, right?

“Sure, okay.”  He nodded and his face was too solemn.  “Um … so can I talk to you for a minute?”

I nodded.  When I turned to head back upstairs, it was met with gasps in response to my shirt.  Shit.

“Calla Jane Weary, what the hell are you wearing?”  My brother choked out.

“Shut up, Toby.”  Oz answered for me.  “She’s not a kid any more.”

His words were spit out harshly, which sent a trickle of fear down my spine.  Fear which had nothing to do with Oz.  Or with my brother.  I tried to shake it off and bury it too deep to ever let it fully resurface.

Beauty & Melancholy: Chapter Three

I had grown up with violence.  I knew it intimately from inside my own home.  From the place were I hid in my room and listened as Daddy and Toby fought.  I still fell right into it without seeing it coming with Gary.  Even though I was stronger now, and putting distance between myself and the last few years, the sound of an angry voice still effected me.  It wasn’t rational so much as reactional. 

Oz must have seen how I faltered – he took my hand as he had so many times before when I was afraid.

When Oz held my hand, I was truly home.  I relaxed into the fingers that wound through my own, then I led him up to my room to talk. 

“I know this isn’t the time.  I should wait.”  He paced the small room and wouldn’t look at me.  “You just got home.  And, I …”

“It’s okay.  What is it?”

I opened the sliding glass door.  The heat in the house had risen and made the room an oven.  Breeze off the water stirred the curtains, the air, and me.  I stood in the doorway like it was an escape route. 

“I need to know what happened.”  Oz finally spit out.

“What do you mean?”  I knew what he meant. 

I wore a mask of friendliness and mild confusion.  I had spent the last few years learning to lie.  Learning to hide behind a mask wiped free of emotion.  Hate

Oz forcibly dragged in a breath.  Then he stopped moving, and he looked right at me.  I shivered despite the heat. 

“This guy …”  He took another deep breath.  Oz teetered on the edge, working to stay level headed, to stay in control.  “What I’ve heard from Toby, and Sawyer, I just need to know what happened.  I need to hear it from you.”

“Why?”  My hand went to my chest, as if it could clutch my beating heart.

Why did he care?  Even Toby hadn’t asked for the details.  As soon as I agreed to come home, to live with him, to take some time off, he let up.  He stopped asking questions.  He was content to know I would be here with him and that he could make sure I was safe.  That was enough for him.

“Why?”  His deep voice hummed in my ears.  Oz closed the distance between us, leaving a buffer of space, but not enough.  The heat of him washed over me along with the lemon and mint smell of him.  It was intoxicating.  “God, Calla, you are …  I need you to tell me he didn’t hurt you.  I need you to tell me you’re home for good and never seeing him.  It doesn’t matter why, I need to hear the words.”

He was forceful.  His words powerful.  But Oz was all strength wrapped up with gentleness.  It was different than Gary.  He had been strength all wrapped up with cowardice.  A bully.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Oz.”  I turned away from him, so that I faced the beach.  More people had arrived to the party, and their voices floated up to us.  A party for me, and I was upstairs alone with Oz.  Not for the first time in my life.  The familiarity hurt more than anything else.  “But, yeah, it’s over.  I’m home.  At least until I can get a job and my own place.”

Oz moved in closer until my back pressed against his chest.

“You in this shirt will be my undoing.”  He growled the words low and close.

I sighed and leaned back more firmly against him. 

Oz. 

I was forbidden fruit.  Toby had been very clear that none of his friends were to ever try anything with me.  Bear had taken up the same song.  Oz had sung it along with them, but then there was that night. 

That one night. 

A time when I thought maybe, just maybe, he was saying it to keep other guys away so he could have me for himself.  Turns out I was immature.  A foolish girl full of wishful thinking.  I had left and didn’t look back.  And I never let myself think too much about Oz. 

“We better go back downstairs.  Before Toby comes up here looking.”  His voice was all gentleness now.  A rumbling that I could feel in my own chest.

“Right.  Can’t risk getting caught.”  I sounded about as bitter as I felt. 

Which was to say a lot.  I pushed past him and stomped down the stairs.  I acted like the bratty little sister.  I felt myself sliding back into a role that was all wrong, and all right, and I couldn’t figure out which it was more.

“Toes.”  Yeah, Toby was Tobes that somehow became Toes.  It wasn’t his favorite.  Which is of course why I said it.  “You better have something other than skank ass beer for me to drink.”

I rounded the corner into the kitchen.  The not open floor plan was not my friend.  I couldn’t see what was happening in there before rushing in.  Mostly everyone had gone outside.  But people were floating in and out and filling all the space of the small house, the deck, and the beach down below.  In the kitchen, Toby was giving Miles shit, up in his face yelling at him. 

“What the hell?  Back off, Toby.”  I yelled in shock. 

I shoved my way in, which was not generally a good idea with this bunch.  Any guy who tried to step in-between a fight would be the joint target of those involved.  Not me.  They all worked so damn hard to look out for me that they all but tip-toed around me.  No punches would be thrown if I was too near. 

“Calla, he …”  Toby was breathing hard.  His eyes sharp daggers aimed at Miles.  Maybe something had changed while I was gone.  Maybe they didn’t get along.  I wouldn’t even know something like that – the revelation was a knife into my side.  “I overheard him saying shit he shouldn’t be saying.” 

Toby lifted me up and moved me out of the way. 

“Oh, come on!”  I wailed and I heard laughter behind me.  Several voices.  We were drawing attention. 

Toby looked Miles right in the eye.  He stabbed a finger at him as he spoke. 

“Don’t ever fucking look at my sister like that again.  And if you ever talk about her like that again, I will kill you.”

Toby stalked off leaving a visibly upset Miles standing there.  Well, shit. 

“Ignore him.”  I moved in closer to Miles who for real would not look directly at me. 

I turned to the people meandering and hoping to catch a fight, or some gossip at least. 

“Get the fuck out.”

I saw wide eyes that I had the gall to banish people who had come to see me.  Whatever. 

“Miles.  Come on.  Look at me.”  He wouldn’t.  Not really.  “Toby gives that speech to every guy in a hundred mile radius.  It’s bull.  I’m a big girl.  I can take care of myself.”

It felt like lies.  That last part especially.  I stuffed that all back down, far away, where it belonged.

He sort of smiled, and sort of looked more in my general direction.  Miles, the baby of the group, the one who had always looked up to me, he stood there towering over me and clearly scared of my brother. 

“Tell me what you said.  I could use a pick me up.”  I pitched my voice to be flirty.  I cocked a hip to the side and looked up at him until he looked back down right at me.  I smiled and waited with a tap of my toe. 

He let out a small laugh, and it was like a sigh of relief.  I guess he thought I’d be pissed or something. 

“I was just telling Buck that you looked hot.”  His cheeks pinked with his words.

“I have a feeling that’s the abridged version.”  I batted my lashes, and he smiled but tried not to and it was cute.  “Thanks for that anyway.”

“Like you don’t know.”  Miles said it like a joke, like it should be obvious.

“Maybe I don’t, Milo.  It doesn’t hurt to hear it every once in a while.  Just don’t let Toby … Or Oz … Or Bear overhear you.  Duh.”

“Good thing Rod isn’t here.  I can’t take on all of ‘em at once.”

He laughed.  I laughed.  It was all good. 

“Now, escape while you still can.  There are few girls out there that don’t have an army trying to keep her virginal.”

Milo’s eyes about fell out of his head.  It was too easy.  I would have to reign it in before I led him on.  I saw the way the girls at the party watched him.  He was a Lacey.  He was worth looking at and worth getting to know, and if he liked you, he was oh so worth being on the inside. 

Being with them, it was like being in an exclusive club.  All these other people, they were friends who came to parties, who you smiled at and laughed with, but they weren’t really in.  I was.  And I had almost forgotten what it felt like. 

Like royalty.

The aura around me, the don’t touch buffer which surrounded me, had been something I had grown to hate.  Now I was happy to find myself back in it.  I wanted to be held at arms length just now – from anyone that wasn’t on the inside with me. 

I pilfered the kitchen and found makings for my favorite drink.  Toby did not let me down.  Of course he would remember.  It brought a smile to my lips as I doused vodka into lemonade with a dash of cranberry juice. 

Back in the day, he would let me drink only if it was at the Lacey’s house.  He figured if he was there, then it was okay.  Plus he always cut me off after like two drinks, and always sent me to bed early. 

I made the rounds at the party.  I smiled and said hello and thank you so many times my face and head hurt.  I went around a few times before I gave up and plopped on the sofa in the living room.  Right under the wobbling ceiling fan.  The noises from the party around me became the soundtrack for a movie I didn’t remember choosing.  Mike and a couple other guys were playing a video game from the other sofa. 

Toby’s living room was long, running the length of the house.  He had set it up like two smaller living areas – one with the giant flat screen and game system.  The other with a huge square coffee table that he had made for board games.  Two book cases overflowed with every board game you could remember existing.  No one was over here on the board game side, just yet, so I took a minute to decompress.

The noise from the party was a racket and coming from every direction.  Hot dogs and hamburgers were being passed around.  The smell, rather than enticing, was nauseating. 

“Want another drink?”

I didn’t open my eyes.  I held out my cup.  I knew Oz’s voice without needing confirmation. 

He took my cup without a word.  House rule:  no one served Calla Jane except one of them.  I was never to take a drink from anyone else.  Ever.  Oz sat down beside me when he came back and put a warm hand on my thigh.  It scorched through the fabric of my skirt. 

“Why are you hiding?”  He asked, voice laced with concern.

“I’m not.  I’m resting.”  I shifted so I sat closer, exhibiting zero self control.  He let me align my leg with his without shifting away.  “It’s been a long day.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”  I had to laugh, a little, a breath of it through my nose.  “I’m not hungry.”

“When can I see you again?”

His voice was darker.  I opened my eyes and found his face above where mine rested against the back of the couch.  Oz was so beautiful.  I touched his hair, soft like velvet along my fingertips.

“Maybe you should talk to my brother about that.”  I said the words in a strained voice.

I didn’t say it to be mean.  I just said it because sometimes the truth had to be said.  Otherwise everyone was going around ignoring it.  If I’ve learned anything, it’s the truth will come out eventually.  And for all those who had been wandering in ignorance of it, the truth was a sobering and lethal thing. 

“I don’t care what he thinks, Callalily.”  Oz scoffed, sounding convincing. 

“Yes, you do.”  I shook my head and sat up, putting distance between us, my legs tucked beneath me. 

“You’re right.  I do.”  Oz’s head cocked to one side.  His eyes flicked down to my legs but only for a second.  “I just care more what you think.”

“I don’t know what I think.”

“I want to see you.  We can hang out.  As friends.”  He attempted to shrug, to look nonchalant. 

He failed.  Friends sounded like a toothache that he talked around, denying the pain. 

“Friends?”  Always friends.  “Sure, Ozzie.  Friends.  Let’s do lunch.”

I got up and sauntered off.  I left him there on that couch because if I didn’t get up, I would have said or done something stupid.  I couldn’t afford to be stupid.  I said lunch like it was my own tooth ache. 

I went out to the balcony and sat on Sawyer’s lap.  He welcomed me into the space with no fanfare.  It was easy.  I needed easy.  Listening to him talk with the other people around us was easy.  But I wasn’t really paying attention.  I was tired.

I was twenty-two and I was tired.

 **

“Come on, sweetie, let’s get you to bed.”

I heard the voice.  I felt the rocking movement of being carried.  I was too far gone to fully wake up.  In my head I was thinking I should refuse this treatment – that I should walk by myself.  But I couldn’t make my eyes drag open.  With a deep sigh, I turned into Sawyer’s chest.  He cradled me and carried me up the stairs and to my bed. 

“Stay.”  I got my mouth to work and say the word that was begging to be set free.

“Okay.”

Saw’s weight dipped the bed next to me, and his steady warmth encompassed me as I curled up.  I drifted back to sleep with Sawyer’s gentle hands rubbing my back.

He was gone when I woke up. 

Beauty & Melancholy: Chapter Four

Days passed with nothing of substance to fill my time.  

I’d kiss Toby’s cheek when he left for work.  He called it his dayjob.  Back when I’d been in high school and he’d been putting himself through the local community college, he had learned to fix cars.  He became a registered mechanic and damn good one at that.  He then worked his way up to manage the shop.  At one time he had been interested in buying it and having his own place.  I’d have to ask him if he was still thinking of doing that.  

My brother was also a fantastic drummer, playing in a descent band with semi-regular gigs around surrounding towns.  But, music wasn’t enough to bring in the money it took to survive.  

Hence the day job to pay the bills.

I would sip my coffee as Toby drove away, and I would let the loneliness settle in and around me.  

I read obscene numbers of books.  

I took walks along the beach – only while it was still early enough not to be brutally hot.  

I rearranged the things in my room.  More than once.  

I drove to the boardwalk and browsed all the tourist traps.  People recognized me and smiled.  Most waved but didn’t come over.  A few had got in a hug and asked if I was back for good.  To which I had no answer.

I texted with Emily.  She had taken a job that started right after graduation.  Packed up and moved to Chicago.  We had fallen into the habit of taking pictures of everything and sending them to each other.  Everywhere she went, she shared it with me.  Every person of interest, I saw their mug.  I did the same for her, showing her the beach, and the house, and my friends.  She insisted Bear was the hottest of the brothers.  And lamented – as did many a girl – that Sawyer was gay.  She kept her mouth shut about Oz.  I had made it clear my feelings for him – on more than one drunken sob fest – and she knew better than to open that can of worms.

I grew bored and started searching online for jobs.  I didn’t submit my resume.  I wasn’t ready to take that step yet.  

Days slipped by until I lost all track of time.

“Chicka chicka.”  Toby’s voice echoed through the house.  

Damn, was it already after five?  I had gotten lost in a novel and wiled the hours right away.    

“Boom boom!”  I called the answer back as I headed to my door.  

It was our version of Marco Polo we’d come up with as kids.  

“Get your ass down here.”

“I’m coming, Cranky Pants!”

I bounded down the stairs with quick easy steps.  Contrary to what I’d thought when I moved down to the coast, I had very quickly gotten used to living with my brother.  I even liked it.  He kept to himself mostly, and so did I.  When we did come together, it was easy.  Fun.  Almost like I wasn’t broken.  Or like maybe I could be fixed one day.  

Toby, not being a homebody like me, went out almost every night.  Usually with the guys.  Sometimes with a girl, or a different girl, or to pick up a girl.  I tried not to keep track.

“Tell me you’re coming to the show tonight.”  He called out as I rounded the corner to see him.

He was dirty from work and smelled like oil, or motors, or tires.  Something like cars and hard work.  A smell that I had been associating with Toby for a very long time.  

“I don’t know.”  My shoulders moved in a shrug and I moved around Toby for the sink.  You couldn’t drink enough water with the relentless heat and salt of the beach.

I bit my lip and he stared hard at me.  He had a fierce you better shape uplight in his eyes.

“Calla.  You have to get out of this house!”  He was almost but not quite yelling.  I felt that thing again, that almost fear, writhing deep in my stomach.  “You haven’t seen me play in years.  You have to come.”

I took a small step back, my breath snagged in my chest making me choke.  I looked at him, and I wasn’t sure what he saw in me as he looked back.  But his whole demeanor changed.  Like he was the one who was scared.   

My heart had spiked, an immediate over-reaction, and my palms itched.  

Fight or flight – which for me was always flight – roared through my system like a freight train.  It blotted out any sense of reason.

“Why are you afraid of me?”  He asked in a timid voice, carefully not entering my space, though his body leaned toward me.

His purposely soft voice held an accusation that stung.  The hurt and confusion on his face was painful and prickled at my skin.

I was not afraid of him.  Not Toby.  I knew without a doubt he would never hurt me.  He would die before he hurt me – or let me be hurt.  I was still trying to figure out how to re-train my body not to tense up when I encountered heightened emotions.  

Not that I could – or would – divulge that level of information to my brother.  Part of moving back down to the beach had been to force myself to move forward with my life.  Leaving the bad parts behind where they belonged.

“I’m not. Afraid of you.”  I morphed to Fresh Face Calla.  Innocent smile.  Wave of a hand.  Hopeful he couldn’t hear my thundering pulse.  “I mean, obviously.”

“No.  Uh uh.”  His eyes stared at my face, trying to get a better read on me, “Don’t try to brush me off.  What the hell?”

I bit my lip to keep it from trembling, as I didn’t want to cry.  

“Nothing.  Really.  I was just …”  I cleared my throat and tried to keep my mask in place.  “What time is the show?  Should I go ahead and get ready?”

“We go on at nine.”  He stated simply, letting me change the subject, but not ready to let it go.

His voice stayed weird.  His eyes were taking in my every movement, my every shift of body and emotion.  I knew he saw through me – I just wasn’t sure what he saw there.  

“When do you need to be down there?  Can we go to dinner first?”  My trying-to-sound-natural voice sounded false as it lingered between us.

“I’m playing at Shooters and Crab Shack is next door.”  Toby grumbled, still watching me, still weary of my reaction.

He was still speaking in a weird tone.  I couldn’t figure out what it meant exactly.  I smiled too much, like a lunatic.  

“Okay.  Cool.  I’m gonna …”  I pointed up the stairs.  “I’m gonna invite Sawyer.”

“Calla.”

I paused at the top of the stairs and looked back down at my brother.  The constant in my life.  My always protector.  I felt swollen with the guilt of having flinched away from him; at having made him feel bad or like he had done something wrong.  

“I’m sorry.”  His gruff voice carried up to me.

“For what?”  I asked, but didn’t want to know.

Don’t say it.  Don’t say it.  Don’t say it.  

This was one of those truths that I had tried gracefully to ignore.  One that was ready to come out and bite me in the ass.  

“For not being there.  For not …”  He sighed and as he did, looked older.  More than his twenty six years.  “For not protecting you.”

“It’s not your fault, Tobe.”  

I sort of smiled.  I definitely escaped from his gaze and hid in my room.  

 

I went with skinny jeans despite the heat.  A ruffled olive green tank top that fell loose over my hips and showed just enough cleavage.  And my worn the hell out brown birks.  I pulled my hair into two french braids and let them hang over my shoulders.  I may as well play up the whole little sister thing.  It was working to my advantage these days as far as I could tell.  

I rode with Toby in his million year old Ford Ranger.  No a/c.  

“God, can’t you fix this thing?”  I complained, fanning my pits with my hands, knowing it wouldn’t keep me from sweating.

He laughed, “Of course I could.”

“Ugh.”  

The windows were rolled all the way down, which you’d think would help, but no.  Instead it suffocated us with hot humid air.  Little pieces of my hair flew free from the braids and whipped across my face until I gave up on looking decent.  

“You might have to get a ride home.  From Sawyer.  Or Oz.”  Toby tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and stick shift, always finding the beat.

“Oh, are those two my only approved chaperones?”  The question popped out automatically, laced with snark.

I was happy to be home, and happy for the safety and security that come with it.  I couldn’t help the attitude that bubbled from my lips when my brother said that stuff.   

“Yes.”  He answered with total seriousness.  

“Why can’t you take me?”  I picked at a loose thread on my jeans.  Why did I wear jeans instead of shorts?  My legs were sweating, my knee pits probably had stains.  And Toby didn’t plan to bring me home from our outing.

“I’m playing the second set too, with a different band.  I’ll be there late.”  He didn’t look at me, paying attention to the road and the stupid beach traffic.  “You won’t want to wait for me.”

“Oh.”

He did that sometimes – played backup or fillin with other bands.  He knew all the local bands and they all knew him.  It was all good, but did leave me with limited options.

Short drive down the beach to the boardwalk, and we were there.  When we walked into the Crab Shack, I spotted Oz and Sawyer at a table by the windows.  Evening sun slanted long shadows across their handsome faces, and threw them into deep relief.

“You invited Oz to dinner?”  I half-heartedly complained.

“Obviously.”  Toby shook his head at me.  “He’s playing with me tonight.  What’s the big deal?  You’re being so weird.”

“Shut up.”

I shoved him and he pretended it had an effect on him, swaggering a few steps.  Sawyer typed away on his phone, looking unaware of our approach.  Oz watched me, tracing my every step, and didn’t bother with being inconspicuous.  I wanted to be mad, or indignant.  Instead, I felt happy.  

All the same, I took the seat beside Sawyer.  I knew better than take the one by Oz.  That would throw the earth off it’s axis.  

We stuffed ourselves with seafood.  Quality seafood being yet another perk of living at the beach.  Talk moved from the show that night, to Sawyer’s project.  The sculpture he was designing for the library sounded unbelievable and I couldn’t wait to see his progress.  We talked about Lacey Garner Corp, and what Oz and Bear had been doing at work.  Talk came in an easy natural flow, except that the topic never ventured toward me.  After a while we had that whole elephant in a room thing going on, and I didn’t know how to fix it.  

“Why no date, Saw?”  I batted my eyelashes as I asked, to which he smiled sweetly.

“I thought you were my date tonight, CJ.”  

I giggled at him, then stole his rum and coke and took a few sips.  

“Now, now, now, none of that.”  He yanked it away from me and downed the remainder.

We all laughed together, and our voices blended into something all at once familiar and achingly strange.  Sawyer threw an arm around my shoulders to hold me close, and our chairs bumped together.  He threw Toby a roguish wink.  Toby looked like he wanted to be mad even though he knew better, while Oz looked legitimately mad.  Not that I knew why – I’d been tucked by his little brother’s side since forever.  

“What are you thinking about?”  Sawyer’s words were soft in my ear.

As soon as we tipped our heads together and whispered, Toby and Oz ignored us.  They hated when we got all mushy on them.  

“I was remembering when you told me you were going to marry me.”  I hadn’t been thinking about the exactly, but something like it.

“Ah.  Young love.”  He sing-songed his reply, and batted his eye lashes back at me.

Together we sighed and leaned in close enough we touched.  

It had been fifth grade.  About the time I had started looking at Oz like more than a brother.  Too young to know what my feelings were, but crushing hard on him all the same.  I’d had a crush on Bear the year before and didn’t think too much about the switch.  Crushes were meant to be unrequited.  They passed.  

But it was different from the start.  Like I loved Oz too much and the idea of not having him always in my life caused pain I couldn’t describe the right way.  When I had told Sawyer, he looked real serious and said, “I’m going to marry you, Calla Jane.”  It was the sweetest thing my ten year old self had ever heard.  

“I should have learned then what my love life was going to be like.”  I let it slip out dark and brooding.

“Why would you say a thing like that?”

Sawyer tipped my chin up so that I faced him.  We had a tendency to exist in our own private bubble – at least that hadn’t changed.  I heard my brother and Oz talking about their set and about chicks.  I focused on Sawyer, and tucked his long hair behind his ear.  

“Well, it’s not like you’re going to marry me.”  I managed a laugh, but I could still taste the darkness.

“I would if you wanted me to, Calla.”  His lips barely moved as he spoke.

“As if.”  I pulled slightly away, forcing a margin of space between us.

“There are different kinds of love.  You know I love you.”  Sawyer’s words were tinged with sweetness, a fine coating of sugar, but I didn’t want any just then.

“I do.”  Of course I knew he loved me, but it didn’t matter.  I nodded my head, but kept the distance I’d created.

“So what did that mean?”  Sawyer focused solely on me, digging deeper.  “What’s your love life like?  Hmm?”

“A disaster.”

I gave him a shaky smile.  But then I turned away.  I couldn’t look at the fire in his eyes.  

“Maybe I’ll find a guy tonight.”  I announced a little too loudly.

I said it to change the subject.  Sort of.  At least to the present instead of the past.  I said it because I thought it would be normal for me to be interested in finding a boyfriend.  I said it to cover the fact that I had zero interest in finding a guy.  Or at least any guy other than the one giving me the evil eye across the table.  

“Um, no.”  Toby rolled his eyes and did his best gross out face.  

“You are such a neanderthal.  I am twenty-two.  Not to mention single.  You can’t expect me to go to a bar and hang out half the night and not speak to the opposite sex while there.”  I rolled my eyes hard to make the point.

“You have him.”  Toby pointed at Sawyer.  

I sagged, knowing there was no hope, while Sawyer laughed.  

“I give up.  I’m joining a convent.”  I threw my hands in the air and nearly knocked over my glass.

“Now that is more like it.”  Toby made a point of looking pleased, like he had solved some world crisis single handedly.  

“Leave her alone, Toby.”  Sawyer didn’t speak up for me much, not where our brothers were concerned.  I guess maybe he didn’t need to, usually, because they were always on the same side.  “Calla’s a grown up.  She doesn’t need a babysitter.”

Toby let it go.  But not without giving me a significant look.  A look that said this wasn’t over.  A look that said he knew something was up and we would have to talk it out.  And soon.  I added it to the other topics of conversation queued up and waiting for us to discuss.

Beauty & Melancholy: Chapter Five

Shooters promised a good time on appearance alone.  It had this big thatched roof, a tiki vibe, and sat at the end of the boardwalk.  The breeze off the Gulf blew through the open air design, making it impossible to forget you were at the beach.  The bar sat like an island in the center, and frozen drinks were their specialty.  Barstools circled the island of blenders and alcohol, tall chairs lined the perimeter.  Strictly no tables, leaving mostly the small stage and big dance floor. 

“I’m sitting at the bar.”  I called out to whoever was listening, and beelined to a row of empty seats with a good view of the stage.

I plopped down onto a stool, and Sawyer took residence on the one next to me, where he’d be behind me once the band started. 

We had an hour to kill before they played, with nothing to do but drink and talk.

The waitress came over in a hot pink v-neck and the shortest shorts ever.  Like jean underwear, pockets hanging out, and miles of leg exposed. 

“Oh.  My.  God!”  A squeal, and two seconds later I realized I knew the waitress.  “Calla Jane!  I heard you were coming back.  You know how this town talks.  I couldn’t make it to the shindig when you arrived because I was working.  I’m always working.  How the hell are you?”

Rachael Adams.  We’d gone to school together, and I hadn’t seen her in four years – since graduation.  She looked nothing like the girl she was when I left.  Her hair used to be long and brown, now it was in a page boy and streaked with blonde.  Her nose was pierced with a little silver hoop, and a smattering of tattoos adorned her arms and chest. 

“Rachael.  Wow.  It’s been forever.  I’m good.  How are you?”  I met her rambling with some of my own, flabbergasted at how much things can change.

I stood up so we could hug across the bar as best we could. 

“Oh, I’m good.  Same ol’ same ol’.”  She waved her hand, and I doubted her words somehow.  “What can I get you to drink?”

“Fruity frozen whatever.”  I laughed and gestured to the bay of blended icy drinks.  “Something with berries.”

She took Sawyer’s drink order too and went to work behind the bar.  She slid our glasses into place with a friendly smile, barely pausing. 

“I’ll catch up with you soon.”  She promised as she turned away.

Rachel stayed crazy busy, flitting around the place, taking orders, making drinks, working behind the bar and everywhere all at once. 

“She has a kid, you know?”  Sawyer said in a low tone.

“I did not know.”  Turned out I didn’t know anything about the place I’d once called home.

“Yep.”

I spun to face Sawyer, and watched as he pulled his hair back into a messy man bun.  Total hottie, and he knew it.  He winked when he saw me checking him out. 

“Liam Murphy is the dad.”

“What!?”  I nearly spit my drink on his face.  “Liam?”

He nodded.  His jaw set and his face grim.

“It was a mess.  They went out all of about three times.  Couple months later, she’s pregnant and saying it’s his.  He wasn’t so sure.  But you know, just because Rach dresses like this for work, it doesn’t mean she sleeps around.”  He rolled his eyes at the double standards of life.  “Anyway, they did tests.  Liam is dear ol’ dad.  He was this close to severing his rights.”

Sawyer held his thumb and first finger not so far apart.  I was taken aback by the deluge of news, and the emotions it stirred in my chest.  I’d known Liam forever.  Unplanned pregnancy happened, but I couldn’t see him not taking responsibility. 

“You better believe we all gave him his ass in his hands.”  Sawyer shook his head as he remembered the events that must have transpired.  “It was rough for a while.  They were always fighting.  But in the end, that baby is a piece of sweetness, and Liam fell for him.”

He laughed and got this gooey look on his face. 

“Babies are easy to fall for.  It’s the squishy thighs.”  I said it like I had a clue. 

He nodded and took a long drink.  Silence stretched between us, thick and awkward.

“So spill it.”  Curiosity shown in Sawyer’s face as he sipped and asked, breaking the tension.

“Spill what?”

“Give me the last three plus years.  Lay it all out.”  He watched me intently, wanting to hear everything, as if I hadn’t dropped him.  As if he didn’t hate me.

“Every one keeps asking me to talk, to explain, to … whatever.  But I can’t.”  I stumbled over the words and felt heat flood my skin.  “I left all that behind and I don’t want to revisit it.  School was good though.  I can tell you all about my classes.  And my roommate Emily.  You’d love her.  She’s like Legally Blonde come to life.  I wanted to hate her and just couldn’t manage.”

He soaked up every word I offered him.  Like he knew he might not get any more. 

“I’m sorry, Saw.  I mean, really, really sorry.  If I could go back …”

I let my apology hang there, unable to go on.

“If you decide to talk.  I listen pretty good.”  He gave me another wink and acted unaffected.

We talked about the easy topics, and we waited, and we drank. 

The bar was packed – standing room only – when the band took the stage.  Oz played bass, off to the left, and looked oh-so-serious the whole time.  Toby played drums, in the back, and showed off by twirling his drumsticks and catching them between songs.  During songs.  Paul McDonald played lead guitar and did the singing, front and center, and loving every second of it.  He was a real showman, and always gave the crowd what they came for.  More than just good music, he joked around and was so at ease on stage it drew you into the performance. 

There was a short break between sets with radio hits piped in to keep the dancers happy.  The band came out and mingled with us common folk. 

I jumped up and threw myself at my brother.  He hugged me and kissed my cheek, and mercifully didn’t let me fall down as I staggered. 

“I see you are having a good time.  Aren’t you glad I made you come?”  Toby laughed in my ear.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”  I rolled my eyes as he steadied me on my feet.

“Calla, girl, so sorry I missed the bash the other night.”  Paul stuffed his hands into his pockets, and smiled widely at me, “You are looking fantastic.  Old age agrees with you.”

Paul was a shameless flirt, and I didn’t mind a bit at the moment.  He seemed familiar and harmless.

“Thank you, Paulie.”  I gave him a little curtsey because I was a little drunk.

“Who was that loser tourist you were dancing with during out set?  You owe me the next dance.”  Paul followed that with a suggestive lift of his brow.

I flicked my eyes to Toby, and to Oz.  To what?  To check and see if it was okay?  Old habits die hard.  I immediately brought my eyes back to Paul, and ignored the stunned looks I had found on the other faces.

“Yes.  Absolutely.  I would love to dance with you.”  The words came out a little too forcefully, shocking every one.

Paul nodded at me and looked pleased as well as a little surprised, like he hadn’t expected me to agree. 

“I’m out.”  Sawyer stood behind me, hands cupped over my shoulders.  “I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Oh, but you’re bringing me home.”  I turned to tell Paul our dance would have to wait until some other night. 

“I’ll bring her home.”  Oz offered, to the rescue like old times. 

“Text me when you get in.”  Sawyer lifted and lowered his hands a couple times on my shoulders, and I soaked up his touch.

“You’ll be asleep.”  I reminded him.

“I don’t care.”

“Okay.”

Paul took Sawyer’s seat and ordered whiskey.  He ordered me another drink although I was pretty sure I’d had one too many already.  I thanked him and sipped it slowly. 

Toby took off into the melee.  He was looking for some girl he’d met the week before.  Or something.  Plus he was due back on stage in like fifteen minutes to play with the next band.  Oz lingered.  He didn’t sit.  He stood there like a guard which was more than a little awkward. 

“Dude, you’re making me nervous as fuck.  Sit down.”  Paul muttered, looking nervous as he said.

Oz grunted and took the stool on my other side.  He didn’t look at me or speak to me, and I wondered if he was annoyed that I was making him wait to take me home. 

But he had offered. 

Paul told me about some upcoming gigs.  He even asked me if I’d come.  I said yeah, or sure, or maybe, or probably.  It was easy enough to agree because Toby would be there, and because I had nothing else to do.  Paul had always seemed so effortlessly confident.  Like the Lacey brothers.  Only poor and never quite on the inside of the group.  But gorgeous with messy black hair and startling blue eyes.  As he sat there talking to me, he seemed a little keyed up, tapping his fingers and swirling his drink.  He looked past me to Oz more than a couple times.  He was either worked up because my guard dog was keeping such a close watch.  Or he was just that taken back by my giving him the time of day. 

The next band was technically speaking a bigger deal, although I didn’t like them as well.  Their sound was a too experimental for me.  I knew all those guys as well.  Toby, on the drums of course filling in, Sam on keyboard, a guy that went by Blade on bass, and Saint Joe on lead.  Saint Joe had a very real reputation and it was anything but saintly.  I steered clear without having to be told to do so. 

“Dance?” 

I nodded and Paul escorted me to the dance floor with a hand hovering at my waist.  People were swaying, sliding, bumping, grinding.  He put his hands around my hips gently, like I might disappear from his grasp. 

“Are you nervous?”  I asked, oddly fascinated by Paul with his hands on my hips. 

“Maybe.”  He admitted, then tipped his head away a little.

I stared at him with this incredulous look on my face.  He was so real.  So honest.  It all felt like a mirage of dancing and smiling and drinking.

“Why on earth would you be nervous?”  It made no sense.  Rather than put him on the spot, I decided to be funny.  “I’ll spoil the ending for you:  I’m not going to sleep with you.”

It was a joke as much as it was the absolute truth.  But I figured he knew that much going into it.  Plus there was Oz watching us.  And Toby watching us.  But I was joking.  Ha.  Ha

Paul’s face went serious, and he didn’t seem to find it funny.  “Obviously.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  I acted offended, even though it made no sense.

“Nothing, Calla.”  He shook his head and tried to regain the easiness that had been between us seconds before. 

I looped my hands up over his shoulders.  The song moved fast around us, and we were like sixth graders shifting side to side, talking more than dancing. 

“I wouldn’t try, that’s all.”  He finally admitted.

I wasn’t sure if I should feel insulted.  I think I felt insulted.  Was it our watchers?  Or was it me? 

“You are so far out of my league Calle Jane, I’m lucky to have this dance.”

“What?  No way.  That’s crazy talk.”  I shook my head at him.  Then I smiled, a real smile that took no effort.  The lights on the floor changed, and his eyes changed with them.  Kaleidoscope eyes.  It was dizzying.  “You’re the lead singer.  You’re ridiculously good looking.  You could have any girl here.”

“That’s not entirely accurate.”  He shook his head at my declaration.  “You might have had too much to drink.”

“Probably.”  Definitely.  “But I stand by my assessment.”

We danced then.  Found the rhythm and each other.  I knew Paul.  I was safe with him.  So I could press my body along his and enjoy the feeling of his touch without fear.

By the third or fourth song I was thoroughly drenched in sweat, and dear Paul didn’t seem to mind. 

“That’s enough.”  Oz towered over me.  Over his friend and bandmate Paul.  “I’m taking you home.”

“The hell you are.”  I reeled back, cross at the interruption.   

I stomped my foot, fully willing to stand up to Oz, but Paul took a step to the side. 

“Sorry man.  No harm, no foul.”  He spread his hands out, continuing to put space between our bodies.

“Paulie, no, it’s okay.”  I protested the interruption.

He leaned in for a half-second, “some other time, Calla,” he kissed my cheek then turned and walked away.

I turned back to Oz, who was visibly upset, and barely holding his shit together.  “Calm down.  We were just dancing.  What is your problem?”

Without an answer, Oz ground his teeth, and stared at me like I should know why I shouldn’t dance with Paul.  But when I opened my mouth to tell Oz how wrong he was to storm over and be a brute, and cut me off. 

“I’m taking you home.”  He grunted. 

I swear, like an overgrown ape, he grunted at me.  I stomped again, upset, but quickly losing steam. 

“Come on, Jitter, you’re wasted.”  Oz attempted to use a gentle voice with me, and even reached out to take my hand.  “Dancing with Paul McDonald?”

The edge of malice to his voice was my undoing.  I opened my mouth to yell, but only released a sob.  Tears on my hot face, I pushed away and through the crowd toward the exit.

Beauty & Melancholy: Chapter Six

He picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder, where I landed with a thump and my stomach fell into my throat.  How many times had he done this when we were kids?  The familiarity punched in my gut more than his shoulder.  It was usually to carry me kicking and screaming and throw me in the deep end of his swimming pool.  It was usually with me laughing as I squealed in delight at him. 

It took a good second or more for my sloshed brain to catch up with my position.  I beat my fists on his back.  He carried me right through the crowd – which parted for the spectacle that was my life – and outside to the parking lot.

“Put me down, you asshole.”

He kept walking.  I assumed toward his car. 

“I’m gonna throw up.  Put me down.”

He slowed and lifted me off his shoulder.  I slid down his front, and my breasts ran along his chest.  Where we touched there was heat, not of a gentle sort, but like being lit on fire.  Oz did not seem immune to the motion.  Nor did he seem amused. 

“Come on.”  He grumbled at me with tight eyes and flat lips.

He took my hand, and I let him because I was a glutton for punishment.  Because I had known my fate all along.  I thought maybe I had gone along with Paul’s flirting and dancing to determine this outcome, which pissed me off.

He opened the door to his sleek black BMW and settled me into the passenger seat.  It smelled like leather.  Like lemon and mint and heart break. 

“I hate you.”

I breathed the words as Oz took his seat.  He went very still, and I wished the words back even as they were passing my lips. 

“No you don’t.  You love me.”

He said the words, and it wasn’t even the first time he’d said them.  There had been those times throughout our lives with a glint in his eyes he’d easily stated you love me and knew it was true.  Now, in his dead voice, it sounded insulting.

“I heard it’s a fine line.”  I seethed, and let my words slip out full of venom.

Between love and hate.

“Exactly.”  He met my vitriol with his own.

I watched the beach pass in a blur out the tinted windows that made the night blacker.  The lights of the boardwalk, of the condos and the hotels that he owned, they all disappeared as we passed.  I didn’t say a word while he drove me to Toby’s house.  My house.

He parked; the wheels crunching over the broken shells.  Without getting out of the car, he rolled the windows down so that we were bombarded with the salt and humidity of the beach. 

“I’m sorry.  I don’t hate you.”  My voice was weak.  I was so, so close to breaking open. 

“I know, Callalily.”  Like mine, the anger had all drained from him, leaving an open wound.

We sat there for a long time.  For a few minutes or for an hour.  We sat there and he held my hand and we were just there together. 

“Go upstairs and go to bed.”  He finally said, his voice low as the waves crashing around us.

“Come up with me.”  I couldn’t get out of the car and leave him.  No way could I pull myself so far from him.

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Yes, it is.”

He followed me up the stairs and into my brother’s house.  I flicked on the kitchen light and downed a glass of water.  He had one too.  I had never swallowed so loudly as I did in the stillness of that room that night. 

I took his hand for a change, and pulled him up the stairs, right into my room.   

“Please.”

It was all I said.  It was all I needed to say.  He nodded and came all the way in.  I took off my sandals, and settled on the edge of my bed.  I patted a hand on the spot beside me, until Oz sat next to me.  The weight of my past and my present combined and pushed me down, leveled me.  Sifting through it all took too much energy, so I settled for focusing on the immediate problem, and how I ended up carried out of Shooters. 

“Did I say I was sorry?”  I offered up what I had left in me.

“Yeah, Calla.”

“Why were you so mad?  Paul and I, we were just dancing.”  I’d done nothing wrong, that much rang true for me, but I wanted to understand what happened.

I had this flash of a memory.  It came unbidden into my head.  A night Emily had dragged me along to one of the bars that kids from school frequented.  She was looking to dance and have fun, and wanted me to come along.  I did.  At some point I danced with a guy.  It was far more innocent than my dance with Paul, a nothing sort of incident.  Out of nowhere Gary popped up and tore us apart.  He hit the guy and threw a fit.  I left with him if just to appease his anger and hopefully avoid more of a scene.  No matter what I said, it wasn’t good enough.  It wasn’t the right thing.  He was so mad and kept saying I had crossed the line.  He called me a slut.  A whore.  Easy.  Words that stung as much as his hands when they hit me. 

I knew this was different, what transpired with Oscar.  I knew that, and yet, I was still back there, trapped in my own worst memories. 

“I didn’t like it.  I couldn’t stand seeing his hands all over you like that.”  Jealousy colored his voice. 

No, he wouldn’t be jealous, it was probably all in my intoxicated mind.  I was far more drunk than I’d been in a long time. 

“Nothing was going to happen.”  I said the words, knowing they were true, but still unsure why I needed to say them.  My head still warred with my past.

“You don’t know Paul, Calla, not really.”

“He knows me, Oz.  It would never have gone too far.”

Oz sighed and his shoulders slumped.  He was upset, and I didn’t understand exactly why, and I didn’t know how to fix it.  But that’s what I did, I fixed things.  I made peace.  I soothed anger.  Or I tried.  I had to because otherwise I got hurt. 

“Calla, you can’t do that.”  He stood up and as if he couldn’t keep still.  That was more like him.  Which set me slightly more at ease.  But his voice was hard.  Pressing.  “You can’t let a guy feel you up like that, right in front of …”

He struggled to keep his breathing even.  I stood up because sitting there suddenly making me anxious. 

“Enough with the big brother over protective nonsense.  I am not a little girl anymore.” 

I said it softly.  I didn’t yell.  I just said the words that needed to be said.  Settle things once and for all. 

“You haven’t been a little girl for a while now.  I of all people am very well aware of that.”  His voice rose with his anger.  I couldn’t keep up.  My head spun dizzily.  I didn’t typically throw up after drinking so I wasn’t sure why I felt like hurling.  “Do you know how guys will look at you when you act like that?  What they’ll think they can do to you?”

“Stop.”  My voice wavered and tears bubbled up from nowhere.  Or from somewhere in my past where I had this conversation too many times before.  “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

How dare he judge me.  Place blame on me and my actions for causing something that didn’t even occur.  It was madness and I was swept up in it, back and forth between our argument and my past.

He took a step toward me, his body precipitously close to mine.  I moved back automatically, my heart rate ratcheting up, and blood pumping adrenaline into my veins.  He regained that step, insistent he be at my side, one hand reaching out to me.  My body scrambled to get out of his reach, acting out of practice, with no conscious though necessary. 

“What are you doing?  I want to apologize.  I didn’t mean for you to cry.”  Oz and his voice strangled me. 

He would be my undoing.  I was certain of it.  I should have come in alone when he suggested it in the first place.  This was my fault for inviting him up.

“Go ahead then, apologize.”  I said the words like a dare, while I kept my distance. 

My eyes kept vigilant watch on his hands.  On his stance.  As if I could predict his next move.  Just in case.  I hated when fear took control and ruled me from inside out. 

“Calla, I’m sorry.  I was being a jerk.”  His voice was pitched as if he was talking me down off a ledge.  Maybe he was. 

He tried again to close the space between us.  When I jumped, he flinched.

“Seriously, what the hell is going on?”  Oz turned soft.  His words were too soft.  Too gentle. 

“Nothing.  I need you to leave me alone.”  I ground out the words through my teeth, unable to relax all my tensed muscles.

“Like hell I will.”

I cried.  My hands shook.  I fled down the stairs because I needed to move.  But feeling Oz come down after me made me run. 

Like prey, I ran.  Like a predator, he gave chase.

I repeated in my head:  This is Oz.  He would never hurt me.  It wasn’t enough.  The chase fueled my fear and spiked my heart rate until I couldn’t make sense of anything.  All I knew was that I had to escape.  That there was no escape.  Only wide open beach, dark night turning my surroundings pitch, and the waves crashing relentlessly to the shore.

“Calla!”  He called after me as I tried to disappear down the stairs from the balcony and onto the beach. 

It’s hard to run on the beach, physically more demanding than solid ground.  My feet sank and squeaked in the sand.  I couldn’t breath.

He caught me.  Of course he did.  He grabbed me and wrapped himself around me, my back to his chest.  A tight bear hug hold that I had no chance of getting out of. 

I didn’t fight.  I relaxed so that he held up most of my weight.  I knew when to stop running; when there was no chance of escaping.  When to fold.

“Calla.  Baby.  What’s wrong?”

I sobbed.  He spun me within the circle of his arms and I soaked his shirt with my tears.  One hand rubbed my back and the other was in my hair.  Oz would never hurt me.  I breathed, and I repeated the words I knew to be true, and slowly the panic ebbed away.  It took a long time for me to stop whatever crazy had taken over my brain and to regain rational thought.  With that gone, all I was left with was embarrassment. 

“I’m going to bed.”  My words were stiff.  I pulled away from Oz and the warm night felt very cold without him wrapped around me.  “I’m sorry for that.  I don’t know what that was.  Clearly I drank too much.”

I could blame the alcohol, yes, it was because I drank too much.  I walked back to the house on stiff legs, all the while knowing Oz followed right behind me.  But he let me go.  Didn’t say anything about my behavior, or try to stop me from going upstairs alone.

He slept on the couch.  Knowing he was down there made me feel safe.  Which was warped. 

I was so messed up. 

 

I woke to a pounding head and cotton mouth that tasted like death.  I groaned and somehow made it to the bathroom to brush and pee.  I made it half way down the stairs before I remembered I might run into people – that I didn’t live alone, and besides which Oz had stayed the night. 

When I heard Toby and Oz talking in hushed tones, I stopped and  listened because they were talking about me. 

“I’m worried, man.”  Oz said.  His voice was morning-gruff.  I didn’t imagine he slept well last night.  “Have you noticed her acting strange?”

“Yeah, yeah I have.”  Toby sounded less worried than Oz.  Tired of the conversation, or unwilling to talk too much about it.  “But she’s coming off this long relationship with that asshole.  She just needs some time to adjust.”

“What do you know about this guy?”

“Nothing, really.  I met him a couple times when I went up there to visit her.  He was a jerk.  Controlling, you know?”

I sank down and sat on the stairs.  To keep my hands busy I worked tangles from my hair and braided it. 

“How could you let her be with him?”  Oz was demanding.  Angry.  But I didn’t feel any fear this time.  Just sadness. 

“Because she’s not a kid.”  Toby lowered his voice to a strong whisper, like he knew I might hear him.  I almost felt guilty for sitting there and listening.  “Because there was nothing I could do.  Don’t put this on me.”

“I’m sorry.  You’re right.  It’s on all of us.”  He so easily took the blame off my brother and onto his own shoulders.  “We all knew something was wrong.”

“She’s here now.”

I stood up and stomped the rest of the way down.  When I came into the kitchen they were smiling like a pair of cheshire cats with mugs of steaming coffee.  I knew I was red-faced, blushing from the appalling events of the night before, and from their words.  I pretended it was because I wasn’t properly dressed. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here, Oz.”  I sort of gestured to my skimpy pajamas.  And hoped that would do for an explanation of my flamed cheeks.

“Ah, you know me, always around.”

Not so veiled message there.  But maybe I didn’t mind.  If I could keep control of myself in the future and not flip the hell out, him being around might be lovely. 

I poured myself a cup of coffee.  Toby sat on the counter, looking at once like a little boy and a grown man.  Oz leaned against the opposite counter, blinking back concern and not doing a good job. 

“What are you guys up to today?”  I asked an innocent question, in hopes of soothing the mood.  They looked at each other before looking at me.  Uh oh. 

“Pool party.  My house.”  Oz said simply.

“Pool party?  We live at the beach.”  I laughed, as I always did when they planned a pool party.

“So?”  Oz shrugged.  He dared me with one look to try and get out of the party. 

“Alright, alright.  I’m in.”  With a shrug, I took my coffee and spun around.

I left them and hoped they didn’t go back to talking about me.  I spent a couple much needed hours to myself, sitting on my balcony reading, picking out clothes, and letting the butterflies go wild in my belly at the prospect of a good old fashioned pool party at the Lacey’s.

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