Page 54 of Secondhand Smoke
Nell froze, her smile stuck, as a nervous sweat prickled along her hairline. “What?”
Her grandmother clapped her hands together. “That’s a wonderful idea.”
Her aunts and uncles all nodded, grinning and murmuring in approval. No one noticed the panic wracking through her body, compiling into trembling hands.
“I’m sorry.” Nell slowly shook her head. “I can’t. Not that.”
“Oh. come on. It’s about time you get over that little fear of yours. Grow up.” Her uncle Rodger had his third or so glass of wine in hand. Back when she was a kid, she’d considered him her favorite uncle. He was the youngest, fun, and good with all of the cousins in the family.
The betrayal stung her chest.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nellie, dear, it can’t be that bad. Just a small ride wouldn’t hurt,” her grandfather chimed in with his piece. “Give your parents a break. They’ve been worried sick about you.”
“I’m sorry.” Nell’s voice shrank. But they must not have heard her because they all kept going.
“You know you’re making them look bad, right?”
“They’ve done all they can to fix things for you, and you’re not helping at all.”
“You’re being selfish.”
“I’m sorry.” It was a whisper now, barely more than a breath.
“Please, sweetheart. One little drive with me? I miss doing that with you.” Her mother grasped her hand between her warm ones.
“Mom,” Nell pleaded to her mother, begging her to understand. She was three inches tall, and everyone had their shoes positioned over her, giving her no place to run. “Please.”
“Sacrifices, Janelle. We all need to make them.” That was her father’s voice, but it wasn’t quite him. That was Pastor Duncan speaking.
She pulled her hand from her mother, her chest on the edge of collapse. Her breathing came out in small, unpredictable bursts. “I’m sorry.”
She stumbled off the couch and walked to her bedroom, locking the door behind her. She grasped at the hollow pain that swallowed her from the inside out. It leaked from her breastboneinto her stomach, then floated into her head until she was blinded by an inky darkness.
Tripping over her feet, she moved to her dresser. She could have avoided this is if she’d had some of that wine, but that wasn’t an option. All she had now was the small stash from Barrett wrapped away in one of her pairs of socks.
Someone knocked on her door, but she ignored it, snatching the small baggie, tossing the socks to the ground, and opening her bedroom window. She didn’t bother making sure she was quiet as she slipped out into the nighttime. The air prickled at her, despite being warm.
Barefoot, Nell walked across the lawn to the small patch of trees on the other side of the road from her house. She used to hide there when she told her parents she was running away as a kid. She would sit there for twenty minutes before coming home, crying and telling her parents she didn’t want to run away anymore.
Now, she wasn’t going there to run away but to escape. Escape the house, escape their eyes, escape her mind.
She tucked herself tight against the trunk of the tree, under the low-hanging evergreen branches that provided the perfect cover for her, and pulled the drugs from her pockets with her lighter. There was already a blunt in there that she fiddled with uncoordinated fingers and lit the end.
Smoking it alone in the dark of the forest wasn’t the same as it was with Barrett watching over her, but the smoke had a similar easing. Soft, gentle fingers brushed against the tightness inside her and pried it apart.
She leaned her head back and exhaled the tangy smoke into tree branches, watching them slink in between the dark needles.
As time ticked on, so did the soothing in her chest and the clearing of her thoughts. It was exactly what she needed. Theinky darkness drifted into calming waves. Her family’s demands and blindness were a world away, merely an echo in her head.
Yet it wasn’t the same.
Soon, she found words and stories and confessions—things she hadn’t spoken to anyone before—wanting to leave her lips. But as much as it begged to be shared, she made no sound.
There was no one there to listen.
20 - Barrett
