Just Ales

Chapter 1 (Just Ales)

I stopped in front of the gates to my former home, duffel bag in one hand, dread and hope sitting on my shoulders. The black metal gates, ornately decorated with twisting flowers, seemed daunting. I bypassed the intercom system, and typed a code into the keypad. In all the years I’d been away, my family hadn’t once thought to change the code.

Maybe they just assumed I was never coming back. That thought stung my mind, but I quickly banished it. I was not thinking about my family, or the last time I’d seen them. No need to bring up painful memories. If all went as I’d hoped, they wouldn’t even realize I was home.

The keypad flashed green, and the gates silently swung open. I heaved a breath, and walked through. From here you couldn’t even see the house, which was all the better for me.

Walking along the side of the driveway, my shoes soon became soaked in the wet grass. I barely noticed. Instead of continuing up the drive, I turned and headed into the wall of trees that lined the pavement. The guesthouse, my destination, was just through the trees. In my mind, it was the perfect plan. I was back in town because, really, I’d had nowhere else to go. Armed only with my scarred memories and heavy conscience, too late I’d remembered that I had made no living arrangements.

Well, it wasn’t as if I could afford any. My parents had cut off my credit card the minute I had left. My life from then until now had been a whirlwind ride that had crashed and burned. I stopped my thought process, reminding myself that bringing up the past was going to hurt more than help, and besides, I was here to start over. I approached the guesthouse, and smiled. It hadn’t changed at all. My family barely used it, and none of our guests had ever stayed there. The four-story mansion that I’d once called home was big enough for any party that had come our way.

I reached out, and touched the cold doorknob. I twisted, but it was locked. A small flare of panic rippled through my body and settled in my stomach. I hadn’t made a plan B. This was it. I had to get in! I noticed that one of the downstairs windows was open a crack, and allowed myself a small smile. It felt strange, probably because I hadn’t been doing that a lot lately. I wiggled the window open, and threw my bag in, climbing in after it. Once in, I unlocked the door, and closed the window.

The house was a bit dusty, but the furniture was in good repair, and no animals seemed to have moved in. My sister must have made sure of that. Before I’d left, she’d pulled me aside, and told me to come home.

“I know you’re leaving, Alessandra,” she’d said, using my full name, which she never does. Most people who know me just call me Ales (pronounced like Alice).

“But if you ever need a place to stay, I will make sure the guesthouse always has a way in.  You won’t even need to tell anyone you’re here. Just please promise you will come back one day.”

I pulled away, touched by her kindness. She was the one person I tried to hide my tears from, tried to shield her. She was the only one I would regret leaving, and the only one I'd said goodbye to. I wished I could stay in her life, but I couldn’t be a worthy big sister in my current situation. It was best for both of us.

“I’ll do my best, Cay,” I’d said in a rough voice. Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Here,” Cay had said, curling my fingers around a white card. On it’s she’d written Cailin Heartwood, and then her cell number. “In case you forget.”

I hugged her one last time. “I won’t,” I promised her. “Ever.”

I shook myself out of these thoughts. Maybe it was a bad idea coming back here. There were too many ghosts.