LOSING IT ALL //HAYLEY PARKER

25

~LOSING IT ALL~

•
25| BECKY
•

THE LOW RHYTHMIC TUNES of jazz music fills the kitchen with the warm soulful voice of Nina Simone. I suspiciously eye the back of Dale's head from the pullman kitchen where I'm assisting Jenny to prepare spaghetti bolognese.

The boys are sprawl on the couch in the lounge room riotously watching a baseball game on the Tv between cans of beer. Newt is the loudest of them all, animatedly speaking as if he personally knows the young pitcher, Ronald Acuna. Jr.

"Hay, babe, are you okay?" Jennifer leans over and nudge me out from my daze. I turn slightly and raise a questioning brow. With a resigned sigh, she turns to stir her meaty, chili sauce bubbling on the burner. "Why're you glaring at him?"

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, filling my arms with vegetables for salad, and then taking them to the sink to wash. "I wasn't glaring at anyone."

Jennifer kisses her teeth and dumps the spatula in the saucepan. Swerving towards me she folds her arms stubbornly across her chest. "Of course, you were." She says staunchly. "I could see you from a mile away. Thankfully he's still alive, if your eyes were lasers, I wouldn't bet on it."

A derisive chuckle escapes from my mouth as I turn on the faucet, and silently scrub a green pepper under the spray of spewing cold water.

"I still don't know what you're talking about." I say, my face going warm with embarrassment.

"When we left you outside the café, did something happen between you two? I don't know, but I've noticed that you've been unbelievably quiet since then."

I one-shoulder shrug, and narrow my gaze outside the kitchen window. Camille is outback on a call. Her dishwasher blonde hair is billowing against the evening breeze. Her posture and body language visibly indicates the severity of her conversation. And it's a heated and an uncomfortable one.

"Who do you think Milley's talking to, she's been out there for hours." I quickly change the subject. Jennifer scrutinizes me wearily for a moment then goes along with the changes.

"I've got no clue, man." She replies dully, slipping into the oven mitt and then proceeds to remove the saucepan from the stovetop. "I've never seen her that long on a call before, well, except when she's calling Becky."

I hum faintly in understanding not diverting my peripheral vision away from her small, fidgety frame. "Whoever's on that line, it's not someone she fancies." I say thoughtfully.

"Obviously." Jennifer concedes, fishing out plates from the cupboard. The sudden uproar of jubilation and cheers rippling from the lounge room brings us both whipping our heads their way. "Can they be any less chaotic?"

I giggle at the look of distress on her face as I fetch a salad bowl. "I don't think anyone can ever cease the enthusiasm of men from any game, baseball, football, name it."

"Literally." She concedes, again.

Shortly afterward, Camille bursts into the kitchen, her face pale and her lips quivering. She halts by the doorway when she sees us hawking at her in curiosity and concern. I hear her small expulsion of breath, and watch her face crumble.

Jennifer and I rush towards her and cocoon her into our arms. "What's the matter, love. Who was it?" Jennifer coos, patting her gently on the back. She tries to hold herself rigid, not to lean too heavily into our embrace, but her willpower is no match for the comfort and security we offer. Her shoulders sags and she leans against us, boneless, as she burst into tears.

"It was Becky." She jabs, shaking frenetically in our tight smooch. Jennifer backpedals, dark eyes wide with infuriation. "WHAT?!"

I squeeze the bridge of my nose unconsciously. Here we go again. Camille leans fully into me, wrapping her frail arms around my waist. "She called to apologize." She narrates weakly. "After all this time, she calls to apologize for hurting me now."

I tighten my fingers into fists.

"She did what?" Jennifer asks in a razor-sharp edge voice, a mish-mash of emotions, surprise, disbelief and anger, whirling around her eyes. "That bitch has the audacity to do what?"

Camille leans off me and staggers to the island stool. "She just have to come back and remind me of the memories I try so desperately to forget." She chuckles wearily. "She's so wicked."

I flip my cascading hair away from my face. "Why would she do that? Why'd she think she ought to apologize for causing you so much pain? What's she getting at?"

"Who the fu*k cares what she's getting at, I'm going to that bitch house this very instant!" Jennifer bustles towards the guys. "Jayden! Jay!" Now the guy's attention is focused on us, surprised and confused.

"Yeah, what's going on?" Jayden grills.

"Can I borrow your truck keys for a minute?"

I turn towards Camille. "Does she have to go cause a scene?" Camille shrugs and avoids my eyes. "Listen Milley, before Jenny goes off and complicates things, are you sure violence is how you want to settle this matter?"

"Of course not." She says weakly. "I think Becky meant no harm, but, it caused harm. I just want to forget her, everything about her. I don't know how...maybe hating her would lessen the feeling of betrayal and hurt that scorches my heart."

I reach out and grab her hands. "You've to heal, but doing it violently won't help you in any way. So please, stop Jenny from leaving this house. Silence is better than whatever she's planning to do."

Camille looks forlornly at me and sniffles. "I know. I'll try and talk to her."

Drawing a breathe of relief, I wheel myself towards the lounge room but Jennifer has already made it out of the house. For god's sake!

•
Thank you so much for making it up to 1000 reads. I really appreciate you participation in my book. Please kinda share to help me boost the book. Thank you so much for your support and contributions. Xoxo :)