The Anyway Clause

You & Me & Her

"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds." -Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral's Kiss

Scott

TJ called me whining about Max. He was a grown man calling me to whine about a stubborn dog because everybody else looked at him like he was crazy when he brought it up to them. And I laughed at him.

I couldn't help myself because even though he was complaining about the dog he was secretly complaining about Jane. Since their fight, he'd been walking on eggshells, afraid that her shift in demeanor was temporary. It made sense.

Jane was playing the 'go along to get along' game so that she could stress less. It would've worked if she wasn't overthinking every single detail. So, even though she wasn't acting out, she was still stressed out, not getting sleep and having those damn nightmares.

But it felt good that he was calling. When we were kids I always seemed to be the voice of reason between them because they were so alike in a weird way that they would clash or be too unsure of what to do.

I guess some things just never changed.

It had always felt like Jane and TJ were the siblings I never had and, with all these recent revelations, it was like having a comfort from childhood being sort of in the middle of them again.

But I was distracted when I noticed a car in the drive that was unfamiliar. I ended my call with TJ and focused my attention on the car. I felt like I should've been able to place it but I couldn't.

For some weird reason, I had a bad feeling about the extra car parked in the drive, so I parked my truck off to the side of the house and entered through the garage.

I came in to the kitchen and I had the option to just bolt upstairs or go see who my dad was talking to. I went with the first option because I knew the voice. I knew who it was after a few syllables.

Bridget.

I couldn't clearly make out what she was saying but I knew it was her voice. My skin crawled a little at the knowledge that it was so easy for me to recognize her voice with such certainty that I didn't need visual confirmation of my assumption.

When I was in my room I felt even worse. It was an ominous feeling. Without hesitating I began to pack my go-bag.

When I'd originally come out to my dad and he had such a crap reaction Jane and I came up with a system where I could run away at the drop of a dime. I wanted to be able to leave immediately because I felt like he'd rather I'd been gone anyway.

Basically, I kept a duffel bag packed and ready at all times. Ironically, entering my senior year, I finally unpacked it. I grabbed the biggest duffel bag in my closet and placed it on my bed. The first thing I put inside was the lockbox no one knew I even had; well no one other than Jane.

I kept it hidden under my bed behind strategically placed shoes so it was concealed. Inside were mementos from my first love; bracelets, pictures, mixtape cds and home videos of our adventures together, not the sexual kind. Don't be a pervert all the time.

It also held about three grand in cash winnings from my street racing days with Jane, two burner phones, and my important documents like my birth certificate, social security card and passport. Once I had it in my bag I dropped the dossier inside as well and began emptying my drawers into the bag.

I literally just scooped out clothes and tossed them inside. It was a huge bag and thankfully it had wheels. I shoved in a few pairs of shoes before I rolled it over to my window and tossed it into the backyard. If I was overreacting, then I would bring it back inside discreetly when no one was paying attention.