Page 23 of Spelled By Truth and Tresses

“Don’t think I didn’t catch your quick change of subject, but I’ll let it go for now.” She said with a small smile. Oh, and he gave me another casserole for you.” She pointed at a large disposable pan covered in foil that was dwarfed compared to the table it rested on.

“Wow. I thought we were done with other people’s cooking. It’s been months since my dad died.”

Silence hung between us. That was the first time I used the word “died” out loud.

“It has. I know you miss him so much, Z.” Her shoulders slumped. “More than ever.” Lalita rubbed her arms and looked away.

I wanted to run upstairs. I couldn’t deal with the pity marring her tan face. “It kills me seeing you in so much pain and having no way to stop it.”

I looked down at my feet and pulled my sleeves over my hands, my fingers suddenly aching from the chill.

We didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I’m going up to my room. If you need me…”

She waved her hand. “I know. I know.”

I jerked upright as my cheek slipped off my fist, my chin nearly colliding with the wooden desk. I always felt so weak the day after Mother took my blood. It was a struggle to focus as I forced myself to attend class after class. I never knew when she would command me to allow her to brush my hair.

My diminishing energy levels were a weakness I couldn’t afford. The mental shields protecting my mind withered like the vines climbing the tower. Goosebumps rose on my arms and I shivered.

The more I thought about it, the clearer the memory of Jax’s double became. He looked exactly the same in the memory. I wondered what advice Dad would give me about it.

Maybe I could talk to him and get some actual answers. My stomach spasmed, and the gorge rose, thick and hot, to the back of my throat.

I can’t. He’s dead.

I covered my mouth and ran to my onsite bathroom. My knees crashed against black-and-white checkered tile moments before my stomach emptied itself into the toilet. Sweat popped out on my forehead as I heaved, my body shaking with strain.

For the first time since his death, his not being there paralyzed me. I covered my face with my hands and let out a half-sob. I couldn’t breathe properly. I would never see him again. I guess I knew that, but his death never seemed permanent.

Dad’s laugh tinkered through my mind as I gripped the edge of the bowl. His smile weaved its way through each thought. I couldn’t escape him.

I fell back onto my heels, then crawled to the corner and curled my body between the claw-foot tub and the eggplant painted wall. Pain sprouted along my jaw as I pulled my knees up and wedged them beneath my chin, but the sensation hardly registered.

Agony coated the marrow in my bones. I suddenly missed the lectures he would give me and our late-night talks filled with stories about the eighties. I wanted those moments back with him more than anything. A sob tore from my throat as grief overtook me, drowning me in its unforgiving waters.

With each tear that fell, frost spread over the gaping hole in my heart left by Dad’s absence. It threatened to shatter my mind into shards of insanity.

The darkness beneath my ribs swelled, reminding me of its presence. No. I can’t take any more. Images flashed through my mind, moving faster and faster with each one. Jax in the memory, and his palm on my chest in reality.

I rocked back and forth with each rush of emotion that pulsated through me; the room trembled. Framed pictures of Lalita and I fell from their hooks, and my collection of crystals jumped on their shelves behind the glass of my antique cabinet. The sculpted wood lining the top splintered.

“No. No, no, no, no!” I screamed. “Make it fucking stop,” I sobbed. My fingers tunneled into my thick, blonde braid and tugged violently on the roots. A burn spread over my scalp, loose strands glittering mockingly as they fell to the thick black carpet.

Warmth surrounded me, strong arms held the pieces of my psyche together as they squeezed around me.

“Shhh.” A deep voice whispered. “Fuck. Breathe, baby girl. I’ve got you.”

My head swam and black spots covered my vision before everything went dark.

My eyelids flickered, then opened. Murky light trickled through my stained-glass window. The thick bars attached to the frame on the inside, casting deep shadows across the foot of my bed.

What the hell happened?

I wiggled my toes and attempted to arch my back, but froze. A warm hand rested on the column of my throat, a heavy forearm lying heavily between my breasts. I inhaled deeply, fully inflating my lungs. The scent of cinnamon and pine was so intoxicating I could taste it. Him.

It was then that I noticed the nagging feeling of dread that always plagued me while I dwelled under my mother’s roof, softer and less grating while I was cocooned in Jax’s embrace, his hand collared the column of my throat loosely.

The sharp lines of his face, so animated while awake, smoothed in sleep, almost peaceful, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. I may have not known him for long at all, but it felt as if I’d known him for years.

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