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| Subject: Re: Trust- Chapter 1- everybody read PLEASE | |
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Author: Kira |
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Date Posted: 21:07:40 06/29/02 Sat In reply to: Gina Z. 's message, "Trust- Chapter 1- everybody read PLEASE" on 23:04:22 06/25/02 Tue This is really great, Gina. Please post more! : ) >*yawn* hot off Microsoft Word y'all...enjoy. > >Scroll a little for the prologue- this stupid thing >won't lemme post both. > >Trust >Chapter 1 > >The car Grant was in carrying he and his two friends, >Christian and Ian, overturned on the way home from a >Clinton club. The police report said the first call >about the crash came in about 2:30. They’d only been >twenty minutes from home. The thought of this just >made tears stream down Tricia’s eyes. He promised he’d >be home by three. > >The accident wasn’t the boys’ fault, actually. From >what the police officer told she and her family, as >Christian merged onto the highway, a black Ford >pick-up came out of nowhere and broad sided the small >Chevy Cavalier. The Chevy, being the small car it was, >responded to the crash by being thrown off the road >completely, spinning three consecutive times before >coming to a heart stopping halt on it’s roof at the >pit of a ditch. Just the description of the crash was >enough for Tricia, she knew the minute she’d heard >“twisted metal” that it was enough. Of course, it was >more than enough for her mother. > >Tricia sat on the uncomfortable couch in the hospital >waiting room practically emotionless. The latest issue >of Seventeen magazines was held between both of her >shaky hands, but as much as she tried, she couldn’t >read it. Mainly she was just thumbing through the >pages, looking at the pictures of various celebrities. >Adrienne lay asleep next to her with her head on her >lap, so Tricia was forced to be careful in any move >she made. Her mom and dad had gone to get some food, >and they left she and her sister there just incase any >word on Grant came their way. Aside from their update >upon their arrival at 7 AM, they hadn’t heard a thing >since. The time was now 9:30. Honestly, Tricia didn’t >expect much. > >The minute she heard that Grant had been in an >accident, everything following seemed to happen in a >blur. She didn’t quite remember crying, but she knew >she skipped breakfast and got dressed in a record >time. Tricia really didn’t care how she looked, and >this was why she now sat in her seat in a pair of >black track pants and an oversized green pullover. If >she got to hot for whatever reason she did have a >white t-shirt on underneath, but she was pretty >comfortable right then. > >The outlook for Grant’s recovery was overall grim, but >hopeful. Christian and Ian had come away from the >crash with their own set of injuries, but Grant was by >far the worst of the three. The pick-up truck hit the >car on the drivers’ side, exposing he and Christian to >the brunt of the impact. Ian was still hurt, but not >quite as severely as his counterparts. When the same >officer who greeted them at the door explained to them >the cause and other facts of the accident, he >explained that Grant could’ve been the worst for two >reasons: the pick-up could’ve hit the back of the car, >or Grant might not have been wearing his seatbelt. >Either reason sounded legit, but judging by the car’s >present appearance, the first reason did not seem >right. Either way, it didn’t matter. Seatbelt or no >seatbelt, Grant was in there, and he wasn’t in the >greatest shape. > >Tricia let out a long, but silent yawn as she >reflected on the information she’d been given. >Examining a picture of Christina Aguilera at the >American Music Awards, she thought long and hard about >every word said. Ian came away with a possibly >sprained right knee and a long gash across his >forehead. The gash required thirty-seven stitches, and >at the time they were still awaiting the x-ray >results. Christian had a broken left arm along with >his share of bumps and bruises. He too had a cut on >his face, but his was a small one across his cheek. >Not deep enough for stitches, a quick wash of peroxide >and a standard band-aid fixed that one up in no time. >Tricia was able to breathe a sigh of relief at that >news; they were going to be okay. But then, there was >Grant. She hadn’t seen her older brother yet, but she >wasn’t quite sure if she wanted too. Her best friend, >her brother, was the only questionable one who’d >survived the crash. Don’t be confused, everybody >involved survived, but he was the only one who the >doctors “weren’t sure” about. Those were the exact >words Doctor Hearst, Grant’s appointed doctor, used to >tell his mom of the prognosis. What great choice of >words for a doctor, right? Tricia thought so, or at >least enough to turn to Adrienne while still in the >doctor’s presence and roll her eyes. Of course, the >doctor saw, but he failed to react, as Julie (Mom) was >quick to bombard him with questions. In true doctor >fashion, he had an answer to everything. If he kept >irritating her the way he was, Tricia would too. > >The nineteen year old yawned once again, this time >covering her mouth just to be polite. Even though >Adrienne was the only one around her, she was right >underneath her and Tricia did not want to wake her >sister up. It had to be hard on Adrienne to be woken >up so early and abruptly only to find out the worst >about her brother. If she needed to sleep, she needed >to sleep, and Tricia was not going to get between >that. Aware of her sister, Tricia held the magazine >open to the same page she was on and set it down >slowly right beside her. She reached up and unclasped >the black hairclip that’d been holding her short brown >hair up for a time and shook her hair out. Every >single strand seemed to fall neatly into place as she >worked her fingers through her locks, running them >through a few times before finally tucking the front >bits behind her ears. She forgot to bring a hairbrush, >so this would have to do. > >“Doctor Hearst, you’re needed in Exam 2, Doctor Hearst >Exam 2.” Tricia’s glare was immediately turned upwards >as the sounds of the PA system filled the hospital. It >made her jump just a slight bit; it was sudden. After >settling down just a tad bit, Tricia sat back with >ease, knowing she was going to be in that seat for >quite a while. > >Tricia propped her elbows up next to her head on the >firm headrest and leaned her head all the way back. >She could feel nearly every muscle stretch as she >leaned her head back, then arched it forwards again. >She glanced around, her statement had gone unheard, or >at least she thought. She sighed, exasperation quite >evident in her voice, “This is not what my entire day >is going to be like.” She stated, her voice in what >she considered a whisper. > >From down below, Adrienne stirred. Just as Tricia was >about to curse herself for waking her younger sibling, >she backed off. Adrienne was just shifting from her >side to her back. However, she heard Tricia loud and >clear. In a sleepy voice, she answered. > >“Yeah, it is.” > >The only thing Tricia could do to that comment was >crack a small, drowsy smile, let out one last yawn, >and shake her head. Her sister was a character. She >sat up just a little, reached forward and covered her >sister with the blanket they’d brought from home. > >“Go back to sleep, you.” > >As much as she didn’t want her entire day to be grim >and dim, Adrienne was right. This was exactly how her >day was going to be. It was exactly how everybody’s >day was going to be. > >***** > >Dan sat in an uneasy position with both elbows on the >table, his hands clasped together with his chin on top >of his fist as he peered straight ahead at his wife. >Julie was entirely frazzled. Her son lay in the >hospital teetering between life and death, just the >thought of it turned her stomach. He saw as her hands >shook oh so subtly. Every single muscle in her arms >was tightened to stop the shaking, but it only made it >worse instead. She handled her cup of coffee quite >well, but it was hard for her to stomach among the >other things that’d happened so far. They had many >other hurdles to clear. > >Julie held the coffee in one hand, and her husband’s >cell phone in the other, for the moment just peering >at it. She knew there were people to call; she just >couldn’t organize her thoughts together into one solid >list of people. There was family, friends, relatives, >people from all over the country who all knew Grant >and needed to know about this unfortunate happening. >Dan, the realist, didn’t quite know what was more >disturbing, the fact that they were there at the >hospital, or that if Grant had the type of injuries >Ian had come away with, they wouldn’t be making these >phone calls. Dan was well aware of the fact that >anything was a possibility, but he dare not say a word >for his sake or the girls’ sake. He had to be strong. > >A sudden slamming sound soon roused him from his >thoughts. The cell phone now lied on the table. He >glanced up. Julie was looking straight ahead, holding >her coffee not saying a word. Her hands were still >trembling. > >“No, I can’t- I can’t do this. Grant is going to be >okay. There is no need to make phone calls to our >relatives when we know that Grant will be okay,” Julie >spattered, not making eye contact with Dan once within >that whole sentence. She didn’t want to do anything at >that moment. The only thing she wanted was to be by >Grant’s side. Dan sighed, feeling her pain. He leaned >in a little closer. Tears were beginning to form once >again near the corners of her eyes. Her voice was >choked up with the small droplets as well. It took her >a second before she glanced up at him, her eyes glazed >over with that sad look, “there is nobody to call, >Dan. There’s nobody.” > >It tore Dan apart to see his wife like this, and as >much as he wanted to believe there was nobody to call, >there was. Dan wasted no more time. He reached >forward, and took his hand in hers. > >“Julie- Julie look at me. There are people to call, >but Grant is going to be okay. I want you to believe >me when I say that. You heard the doctors, so he’s not >in the best of conditions right now, but he is a >fighter. I know and you know that Grant is in that >room right now fighting for his life so he can live >and come back and be with me, you, and Tricia, and >Adrienne. We know that. Think positive right now, >Julie, Grant wants you too.” > >Julie couldn’t help but nod at her husband’s >statement. He did have a very good point, but at the >same time she was trying to be as optimistic as she >could but not get herself wrapped up in it all. There >was such a thing as getting your hopes up, and when it >comes to life and death, that’s not a thing one would >want to do. She took in a deep breath, running her >fingers through her natural red hair. > >“I know Grant wants me to too, but damn it Dan, it >just feels like it’s so hard,” she cried, easily >succumbing to the tears with no added pressure from >anybody but him. Dan continued to hold her hand, >running his thumb over her index finger as his fingers >were laced in hers. He listened to what she said. He >knew it was hard, but continued to elaborate. > >“Ssh, I know it does, but-“ she was the one to >elaborate now. Wiping the tears away from her eyes >with the corner of her coffee-stained napkin, she >spoke openly. > >“I’m aware that Grant might not make it through this, >okay? I’m aware of how bad his injuries are, and I’m >aware of all of the risks that come with this that and >the other. I don’t want to get my hopes up only to >have my oldest and only son leave us at twenty-two >years of age! I don’t know about you but I do not want >to jump the gun. The grief will outweigh everything >else. This I promise you.” Julie seethed, nearly >taking her anger and frustrations all the way out. It >wasn’t necessary, but Dan understood what she was >saying and where she was coming from. Her last line >sparked him to remember something. He still held onto >her hand. > >“Julie- Julie, Julie, Julie, you’re being paranoid >now. I’m aware of the same things you are, honey. The >only way we are going to overcome this is to get >through it TOGETHER. Yes, twenty-two is way to young, >but we have to stay together, and we’ve just got to >pray for Grant everyday. Strength in numbers right? I >think me, you, Trish, and Adrienne can put up a good >fight. Now, I’ve got a suggestion. You go ahead and >finish up your coffee. Take your time, I will take the >address book and the phone and call all of the >necessary people. I’m only going to call people who >are absolutely necessary, so you won’t have to worry. >Do you trust me?” he questioned. Julie said nothing; >she just nodded, “Good. I’ll be right back.” > >He pivoted to set off into the hallway, but stopped at >the sound of Julie’s voice once again. > >“Dan?” she called. He turned around. > >“I love you.” > >He smiled, “I love you too.” > >Setting off for the hallway, he quickly unbuttoned the >thick black address book and began to flip through the >pages. When he saw the first name to catch his eye, he >set off and began to dial. Typically, the address book >was in alphabetical order. The first name he set eyes >on? Diane Bass. > >***** > >Diane was the first person Dan ended up calling. >Whether it was because she was first in the address >book, or her son’s relation to the family, that >remained a mystery, but Diane wasted absolutely no >time in calling her son and informing him of the bad >news. Lance hated bad news, but you know what? This- >he needed to know. > >Lance sat down in the comfy leather chair without a >care in the world. Behind him, the television was >blaring at a near full blast, the music was pouring in >from the other room, and the unwanted chit-chat of the >four other guys could be heard from miles away- even >if they were behind him just like the television. He >sat down, removing the pillow that’d been placed there >before him and replacing it on his lap. He leaned his >head back for a minute- wanting nothing more than the >pain in his head to ease up. Looking at the way things >were going, it didn’t look like a possibility. > >With his eyes closed, he managed to listen in as >Justin yapped on the phone. He didn’t know whom it was >with, but he had a good inkling as to the answer. For >one, his tone of voice clued him in big time, and two, >he would never speak to his mom that way either. >Chances were it was Britney. Oddly enough, Justin and >Britney had been doing a lot of talking lately, but >none of it was good. That was the odd part. > >JC sat with Lonnie and Mike on the flipside of the >room, playing a very rigorous game on NBA Slam on Play >Station 2. All the guys loved to play; it was one of >Lance’s favorites, but he just did not feel like >playing right then. The annoying pain in his head made >him want to stop doing everything, which he had. Not >even doing nothing helped. Lance shook his head, >headaches sucked. > >As for Chris and Joey, they stood in between the two >sides of the room, throwing around a small, plush >football and talking as they did so. Lance hadn’t >tuned in to their conversation in a while, but the >last time he had they were saying something about >Fu-Man. Boring, now how many times in a day did the >guys have to hear about Chris and his Fu-Man? None of >these activities; the phone talking, the video game >playing, or the football throwing, seemed even >remotely amusing to Lance. The best thing he could’ve >done was sat there, and done nothing. That’s exactly >what he did. > >He enjoyed his few minutes of relaxation and tuned >everything out. For a minute there, he was able to >hear absolutely nothing. It wasn’t until one voice had >to jump on in and spoil it all. > >“Hey Lance, what are you doing over there?” > >Lance opened his eyes, knowing he just experienced a >rude, rude, very rude awakening. Slowly, he sat up. He >turned around to see Lonnie, still playing the game >and still very focused. He figured since it’d been a >few minutes since he said anything, he was concerned. >Lance understood, it was legit when you were guarding >a super star. Not to say Lance considered himself one, >of course. He sat up even straighter, and letting out >a sigh, was quick to respond. > >“I was just sitting down, chilling. I have a headache, >so I’m trying my best to get rid of it.” He explained, >playing with the long sleeves of his beige sweater. > >Lonnie simply nodded his head in response, “Oh, have >you taken an aspirin?” > >Lance sighed once again, but this time it was more of >a huff, could that question have been any dumber? > >“Yeah, an aspirin and a Tylenol. I’ve napped, I’ve >tried to sit in silence, and nothing has worked. You >wouldn’t happen to have any tips, would you?” > >The head security guard shook his head, “Nope, can’t >say I do. Ooh! You’re going down! I just whooped your >ass,” he exclaimed jubilantly, veering entirely off >subject to remind JC that he’d just lost the game. JC >nodded, knowing he’d been creamed but of course was a >good sport about it. Lonnie diverted back to Lance, >“honestly Lance, I don’t know what to tell you. I >don’t get headaches.” > >JC shook his head, “Nope. You just give ‘em.” > >Lonnie and Mike laughed, but Lance didn’t find it >funny. Thus, he exited without a trace, knowing that >they’d notice he was gone sooner or later. He’d given >up on the NSync clan for advice a long time ago. Lance >intended to head to the other room, the “quiet” room, >to see if that would work, but as usual, he was >stopped for what seemed like the millionth time that >day. > >“Lance,” was all one voice had to say to make him lose >his mind and all marbles that came with it forever. >This time, his name came from a girl, on the second >doorway to the left that he happened to be standing >right in front of. Since it was spoken right into his >ear, Lance shuddered. He turned to see none other than >road manager Melinda. She held a cup of coffee in one >hand, and a cell phone in the other. Lance recognized >that phone; it was his. He’d reacted to soon, however, >and didn’t quite realize it was her. > >“What could you possibly want now?” he whined, quite >loudly at that. Justin and Joey’s heads were the only >ones to turn, but when he looked down at Melinda she >looked slightly taken aback. His facial expression >softened almost immediately. > >“I’m sorry Lind, headache.” He excused himself. >Melinda nodded, going back to her sweet self instantly. > >“That bad? Aww, try popping your neck; it worked last >time,” she suggested, giving him a quick pat on the >shoulder. Lance nodded, but on the inside brushed it >off. Half of her tips never worked. He glanced at his >cell phone, “Your mom is on the phone.” > >Lance’s mother never called him right before a show. >She knew it was their time to focus and gather >themselves together. In the past, Diane had only >called one, and it was urgent. The only reason that >Diane was not at this show was because she was going >to be on tour with her son for the last half of the >dates. She and her son made a mutual decision that >it’d be better for her to stay home. > >Concerned, but not shaken, Lance nodded his head, said >a quick thank you to Melinda, and took his phone. Now, >he was forced to go into the other room so he could >get some peace and quiet and clearly listen to his >mother. He glanced around, realized nobody was around, >and shut the door. > >Lance pressed the flip phone to his ear, “Hey Mom,” he >greeted, not sounding to chipper in his tone. > >It didn’t take Diane long to pick up on that, “Hi >Baby, how are you? You don’t sound to happy.” Lance >couldn’t help but smile. She always knew how he felt >no matter what. > >“I have a really bad headache right now, and I’m >stopping at nothing to get rid of it. Nothing seems to >be working, but I’ll find something.” He explained. >Diane nodded from home. > >“I’m sure you will,” she assured him, switching into a >serious tone of voice, “listen, honey, are you sitting >down? I’ve got some rather bad news for you that I >hate to tell you, but you need to know.” > >The minute she said bad news, Lance was searching for >a place to sit. When he did, a small seat by the >window, he allowed his mother to go on. > >“What’s going on? Is Stacey okay?” she took in a deep >breath. > >“Oh yeah, Stacey is okay. Actually, she called today. >She and Ford are doing great, and she sends her best >and says she loves you,” she informed him, “what I >have to tell you is- well- do you remember Mr. And >Mrs. Murphy?” she questioned. Lance heart began to >quicken at the simple sound of that last name. It >always floored him how one- two names, could have such >an effect on him, but even after all of the time >that’d past and what’d happened, it still hadn’t >changed. Instantly, he thought of her. > >“Well, yeah I remember them. Of course I do! Oh man, >Mom please tell me nothing has happened to her!” he >urged, immediately jumping to conclusions and thinking >the absolute worse. Even though Diane couldn’t see her >son, she still shook her head, not wanting him to >think that at all. > >“Oh Lance, no. She is fine, I promise. I would’ve >called you a whole lot sooner if something bad had >happened to her. Actually, it’s her older brother.” > >“Grant?” > >“Yeah. Dan called me earlier this morning and informed >me that he was in a car accident last night. Actually, >it was pretty bad. He was in there with two of his >friends, and he’s the worst off out of all three. They >actually don’t know if he’s going to make it.” She >explained. Lance nearly gasped. He’d only met Grant >one or two times in the past, but it worried him more >how his two sisters were handling the situation. Grant >was cool and all, but he knew his sisters a lot >better. Lance put his hand up and covered his open >mouth. > >“Oh man, that is horrible. How is the family handling >it? I mean- Trish and Adrienne in particular?” he >questioned. It’d been a while since he’d seen any of >them, but it’d also been a while since it’d all hit >the fan. He still wondered how they were doing. > >“Dan said it’s to early to tell much right now, but >the girls are fighters. They’re staying as strong as >they can for their older brother.” > >Lance nodded his head, staying on with his mother for >nearly five more minutes. She informed Lance that it >might be good to somehow get in touch with the family. >He’d be in Clinton the day after next, but at the same >time he could call or email. Either way would work, >but wait a second. Did anybody say Tricia wanted to >see him in the first place? > >***** > >FLASHBACK > >Tricia quickly swiped away the crystal teardrops that >slid down her cheeks, brushing them away with a quick >whip of her hand. Her face was already tear stained so >it didn’t make much of a difference; she just didn’t >want anybody to know she was crying. It was to late >for that too, Grant was sitting right in front of her >listening to her every word. He’d brushed away a few >tears for her to begin with, and as much as Tricia >would’ve wanted her privacy as the phone was pressed >to her ear, she knew she probably would’ve been even >more upset if her older brother wasn’t there. At this >point in time, he tucked a few strands of her hair >behind her ear, sitting Indian Style on the leather >ottoman which matched the leather chair she sat in. He >was still in his pajamas, consisting of a white muscle >shirt and a pair of blue flannel pajama pants. He’d >just woken up to this. > >When Tricia was in his presence, he spoke nothing but >positive things about her relationship with her >boyfriend, Lance. However, when Tricia wasn’t in the >room, he disapproved of it in every way, shape, and >form possible. Tricia was fully aware of how her older >brother felt towards them being together, but she’d >told him on many occasions that she didn’t care. It >wasn’t Lance he didn’t like, his words could be marked >that if he didn’t like Lance he would’ve been gone a >long time ago. Lance was a great guy, perfect for his >little sister, but it was the age thing that bothered >him so much. It was summer of 1998 at the time. Tricia >was a mere sixteen years old, and Lance was nineteen. >They’d been together on and off since Tricia was >fourteen, but now as Lance got older and became an >adult before she did, it scared Grant more and more. >He had no idea what she meant to him, and that scared >him even more. > >He sat patiently, silent as he listened to Tricia’s >words. > >“What are you talking about? I am not being selfish! I >love you Lance! Why would I want to be selfish?” she >sobbed, running her fingers through her hair as she >rested her elbows on her knees. Grant cringed. There >she goes with those three words again. Couldn’t she >have chosen something else to say? He couldn’t think >of anything off the top of his head, but he was sure >that if he looked in a dictionary, there would be a >different, more reserved kind of way to say I love >you. The only people Grant had ever said those words >too were the members of his family, and he was one >year younger than Lance at eighteen. Here Tricia was, >not even with her drivers’ license rattling the words >off the tip of her tongue. Once again, it terrified >him. Still, he listened. Lance had broken some pretty >interesting news to Tricia just one day prior, and one >could only anticipate that Tricia would be a little >mad. Grant knew that if his girlfriend told him >something like that he’d be the same way. > >Two more tears proceeded to fall down her porcelain >face, but Grant was sure to get them with his finger >before they absorbed into the cotton of her white >track pants. She veered her head up to look at him and >her sad brown eyes kind of hit him on a soft spot. >There were a lot of things he hated, but one thing >that ranked top on his list was to see Tricia or >Adrienne cry. He took his role as older brother more >like a protector, but they never minded. He assured >her that he wasn’t going anywhere as Tricia continued >to listen. She shot up again. > >“What do you mean? Lance you are not making sense to >me at all, I just don’t understand- no that’s not what >I meant! I would never say that! I love you!” > >Those three words again. Hearing that out of Tricia >was like hearing her swear- it was a bad thing. Grant >hated it, but he dare not say anything to her. Tricia >was always very fragile when it came to her >relationship with Lance, and it was understandable. >Since she was younger she handled being his girlfriend >on her own. Seldom did she come to her family about >advice or say anything about him. This was her thing, >and she didn’t want anything, or anybody, to >intervene. One could easily piss her off by telling >her things about them. > >It wasn’t as if the family didn’t know Lance. He was >over at their house all the time, but just recently he >hadn’t been over for dinner or anything in the past >two weeks. The family knew Lance very well and vice >versa, it was just that when Tricia and Lance spent >time together, she never spoke about it or vented >about anything. Therefore, Tricia knew why he hadn’t >been by in two weeks. Nobody else did, but they were >bound to find out. Grant was designated to get to the >bottom of it. The family messenger, if you will. > >For these two weeks that Lance was gone, it almost >seemed like Tricia was gone with him. She was an >entirely different person, she was unhappy, sad, >depressed, irritable, moody to name a few. The exact >opposite of what she normally was. Grant wasn’t >appointed to be nosy, he was appointed so they could >have the old Tricia back. But his sitting there with >her on that hot July morning wasn’t a mission, he was >just being her older brother. Three quick taps on the >door to the game room suddenly diverted both of their >attention. Quickly glancing up, Adrienne stood >outside, her hair tied up in a ponytail while still in >her pajamas of a red tank and short black cheerleading >shorts. Looking to her left hand, the cordless phone >from downstairs lay in her palm. She looked at Grant, >gesturing to it. After mouthing the name “Ian”, Grant >sighed in return. He mouthed “take a message” back. > >“Oh, so now you hate me. Great, real great Lance.” >Tricia snapped, forcing Grant to whip his head back in >her direction. She was getting louder, not a good >thing in an argument. Grant motioned to her, gesturing >for her to calm down. Tricia shrugged him off. It was >either sit there and shut up or leave and give her >privacy. Grant nodded, he knew, just forgot the rules >for a moment there. She continued on. > >“What? That is such crap! I’m so sick of you doing >this! Listen, it’s ten o clock in the morning in the >middle of June. I am NOT going to spend my entire >summer inside arguing with you! Next time you want to >start a fight over nothing make sure you pick your >battle wisely. I’ve had it with you!” > >Grant jumped for a sudden second when the phone went >from Tricia’s ear one minute down to the receiver the >next. With a loud slamming noise she thrust the phone >down, sitting there silently not saying a word. Grant >watched her, wanting to choose the right moment to >speak. He took a breath. > >“Dare I ask what that was about?” he implied. Tricia >sighed, shaking her head. She ran her fingers through >her hair one more time, sniffling as she did so as she >tilted her head up towards the light. > >“Believe me Grant, you do not want to know.” She >seethed back; not angry with him but veering it >towards him. Normally he wouldn’t take it, but he was >willing to let one fly. He ran his fingers through his >sandy blonde hair. He wanted to know. > >“Or maybe I do, what’ll it take to get it out of you?” >She shook her head. > >“Nothing, don’ t bother. It’s just Lance- being an >ass. Being himself,” she blurted, trying to make a >joke at the end but making herself cry again instead. >Almost like a reflex, Grant reached his arms out to >her, signaling for her to come in for a hug. He hated >to see her so upset. He felt as if she didn’t know >what she was doing; it was merely puppy love. Still, >he enveloped her in his embrace, cradling her head on >his shoulder telling her it’d be okay. For a few >seconds there, she believed him. Until the phone rang >again. > >At first, they looked at each other, Grant giving her >a “don’t pick it up” type of glare. Of course, Tricia >had to disobey and lunged for it at the first ring. >Drying her tears, she picked it up. > >“Hello?” > >“Trish,” that same voice bellowed through. Tricia >didn’t hesitate in reacting. > >She slammed the phone down on the receiver, hanging up >on him. > >***** > >Tricia ran her fingers through her hair in almost the >same fashion as she did on that same summer morning, >leaning forward in her chair as she did so. She closed >her eyes from behind her black rimmed reading glasses, >her hands positioned on the back of her neck near her >shoulders. As she hung her head she could feel >everything stretch and pop. It felt good. After a yawn >and a good sneeze, she sat back. She glanced at her >watch. It was 4:30 in the afternoon. > >She sat back in the chair she’d been in all morning >and all afternoon, and with her laptop finally shut >sitting at her side, folded her arms across her chest. >Tricia figured simply sitting in pure silence for a >few minutes wouldn’t hurt a thing. She peered out the >window and squinted at the sudden exposure to the >sun’s rays. The really odd thing about the weather at >that time was it was cloudy to the east, and sunny to >the west. Ironically, they were on the sunny side. >Nothing about this day had been sunny, to say the >least. Outside, it was drizzling rain, and while one >could clearly see the clouds making this possible, the >visible sun on the other side made it all the more >beautiful. She shook her head, positive things just >didn’t seem to be in her vocabulary that day. > >Her mind raced with the not so great memories that the >day had brought. Her parents were a wreck, Adrienne >was a wreck, Tricia too was an emotional wreck but she >vowed to stay strong for her family before anything >else. In fact, she was focused on so many other things >that she could hardly even think that she was upset. >It’d just been a really long, emotional, trying kind >of day. She could only hope and pray that more of >those were not in store. > >Towards around noon, when Adrienne was checking her >email, and her parents were having lunch, Tricia was >actually able to go in and see her brother. The site >of him nearly brought tears to her eyes for he was in >really bad condition, but although he was heavily >drugged and hooked up to nearly every single machine >known to man, he could still tell what was going on. >Grant didn’t need to see his sister cry, and >therefore, Tricia needn’t be upset. The visit was >long, but silent. Once she’d finally come out, >Adrienne informed her that she’d been in with him for >nearly an hour. It was a good forty-five minutes spent >simply holding hands and praying. Very, very trying. > >She hadn’t shed one tear that entire day. Don’t get me >wrong, there were many, many times when she’d wanted >to or come close to it, but a knot in her throat was >the worst it got. After that, she’d see the people >around her. Her mom, a total basketcase, her Dad, a >basketcase with her, and her sister, Adrienne. She >couldn’t cry, or at least not in front of them. It >just didn’t seem right. If Tricia cried, then whom did >Adrienne have to feed off of? All optimism would be >washed down the drain, and that was the last thing >Tricia wanted to see happen. When the opportunity to >cry came along, it was bypassed. > >Towards about one o’clock, Ian and his mother came by >the waiting room to check in with everybody and see >how Grant was. Ian and Christian were still checked >into the hospital, but they of course were able to >move as they pleased. Christian wasn’t there, but >Tricia didn’t feel like asking why. She didn’t have >the energy. Ian looked good, his knee was tightly >wrapped into a stiff black brace, and long silver >crutches suited to his tall stature accompanied. One >lone bandage remained on his forehead, but otherwise, >he still looked great. Tricia couldn’t remember much >from the visit. She remembered giving him an ever so >delicate hug across the waist, and when Ian asked how >she was holding up, she gave a sigh and a nod. He gave >details about the crash, but by that point Tricia was >way to tired to listen. She curled up in a chair and >fell asleep. > >Before he left Ian gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, >not wanting to wake her but saying goodbye at that. It >meant nothing, it was just a “hang in there sweetie,” >friendly kiss on the cheek. Adrienne got the same >thing; she too was asleep. By the time she’d woken up >towards about two-thirty, her parents were inside with >Grant, and Adrienne sat flipping through a magazine. >It was a really eventful type of day. > >For about the next two hours, Tricia sat on her >laptop, surfing the internet and writing on Microsoft >Word. She avidly kept a diary, writing in it at least >three times a week. On the side she wrote stories here >and there, but she was in no such mental condition to >write anything even resembling a story. Instead, she >typed in her diary. That brought her to now. 4:32 PM, >it said so on the blue clock hanging on the wall. She >sat up slightly, looking down at herself. She was >still in her pajamas. > >It wasn’t like she wanted to change or anything. Her >sister was still in her pajamas, but was now in red >break-away pants as opposed to the short cheerleading >shorts she wore at home and when she arrived at the >hospital. The matching red tank top still stood. That >was Adrienne, everything always had to match her long >red hair. The majority of her closet was red, and if >it wasn’t red it was either white, black, or green. At >that thought, she couldn’t help but smile. It almost >reminded her of- no, it couldn’t be. > >Throughout the course of the day, thoughts of him >periodically flashed through her mind. As fast as they >came, she blocked them out, but they were still >thoughts. She hadn’t seen him in person in nearly a >year and a half, but why was she thinking about him? >Not Lance, not now. > >As she thought about her sister, Lance ran through her >mind. It just wasn’t right. They’d broken up a long >time ago, and they’d hardly spoken since. Yet, she >couldn’t get him out of her head. > >Almost frantically, she reached down to pick up her >laptop once again. A little more writing for the day >wouldn’t hurt. She was still connected to the >internet, but nobody worth talking to was online. >Navigating with her index finger, she lightly tapped >down on the mouse pad beneath her, maximizing the >program for her. She could still see her words from >before, clearly typed out on the screen. After hitting >enter to clear a space, she typed. > >4:36 PM > >Never have I ever written twice in my diary, but there >is always a first for everything, and today has >brought a lot of those. I think it’s really safe to >say that I have never been this emotional in one day >about anything. I’m drained. Mentally, physically, >just all around my gas tank is on empty. I’m so >worried about Grant. > >Tricia had missed her computer inform her that >somebody was online, because evidently this person was >not on her list of people. As she typed her brother’s >name in her online diary, her computer remained silent >for she’d turned down the sound, but a window popped >up right in front of her eyes, flashing on the top to >inform her. She glanced at it. It was an Instant >Message. The screen name made her shudder. > >Suddenly, she was taken back to that summer day. She’d >hung up on him. Trish remembered the phone ringing a >second time, and her brother not wanting to pick it >up. She did anyway even though she hung up, but faced >with a similar situation, her heartbeat quickened for >a mere second, and her finger shivered before doing >the only thing she could. > >The IM was from Lance, or if not him his screen name. >She closed the window. [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |