Torn in two

Chapter 14

"What?" Cindy's voice cracks.
"I think I have an idea of who broke into your house," I say slower.
"Hold on, let me get a drink," she pinches the bridge of her nose and turns towards the fridge.
She squats infront of the open fridge sifting through the contents.
"What are you looking for?" I inquire, leaning over the kitchen island.
"Wine, beer, that champagne from this morning. Honestly anything at this point," she frowns still rummaging.
"Here it is," she waves the bottle of champagne from earlier.
She grabs the two glasses from this morning off of the drying rack.
"He has a lot of healthy foods in his fridge," she comments while pouring the champagne.
I notice she pours significantly more for herself.
Cindy walks around the island, handing me my glass on the way past me towards the living room. She plops onto the sofa, letting out an exasperated sigh.
I sit across from her on the arm chair so I'm able to observe her. She already drank half of her champagne.
"I think it was Greg," I say void of expression, folding my legs in a pretzel.
"Excuse me?" She peers at me with disbelief.
"Well, at least, I think Greg had something to do with it," I reiterate.
"How could you even think that?" She looks as if I just slapped her.
Which it probably felt as if I did. Greg has been our rock growing up. Within the last year I've definitely noticed some changes. I just assumed he was busy preparing for his club opening. But now since it's opened, he seems even more different.
"When I went home earlier I heard him telling someone to, 'tape it to the door,' and your key was taped to the door," I animatedly explain.
"You're blaming your twin brother because he coincidentally said something similar out of context," she was astounded by my accusation.
"He was yelling at whoever he was speaking with. I've never heard him so angry before," concern filling my voice.
"Well, did you ask him about it?"
"No," I admit guiltily.
"He wouldn't sabotage me, or even you. But I agree though, he has been acting really strange lately," she ponders, chewing on her lip.
"I'm going to have to talk to him," I declare. 
"Let's make that our first step and then we'll revisit this notion afterwards," she finishes her glass.
She stretches out on the sofa, getting comfy. Within seconds light snoring fills the small living room.
I get up, grabbing a knit blanket from the closet and draping the material over Cindy. I place our glasses into the sink and peek over at the oven clock displaying 3:30A.M.
I didn't realize how late it was.
I flick off the light before heading to Zak's bed.
I was still wearing the dress from the beach and I didn't want to wear a dirty dress in his bed. I crawl under his fresh linen sheets in nothing but my underwear and curl up on the down fluffed pillow.
After the conversation with Cindy, I felt more at ease and even slightly ashamed for thinking my brother had any part in this mess.
The light woodsy fragrance of Zak's pillow was the added ingredient I needed to help me fall asleep.

Papá was driving and my Mamá was switching the channels trying to find a good radio station to listen to. She stops on a random song and smiles over at Papá. They were each other's soul mates. He treated her with so much love and respect. He reaches out to squeeze her hand and lifts their entwined fingers, planting kisses to her hand. They were heading towards the city for dinner. It was their 30th wedding anniversary today. I knew this because this was the day they died.
I was in the backseat, realizing I was unbuckled. I frantically try and clip my seatbelt, but the buckle was busted.
"Papá, my seatbelt isn't buckling," I cry out.
He ignores me. 
"Papá, I said I'm unbuckled. Can you drive slower?" A dampness spreads to the back of my neck and my ears grow hot.
"Mamá," I reach out for her shoulder but she doesn't turn around.
"Mamá," I cry.
She still doesn't turn. Shes gazing out the window as we pass the flashing lights cautioning drivers of a train crossing.
"Papá, you need to stop," I scream at him.
He appears to be stepping on the brakes but the car was still in motion.
"Papá! Pull the emergency brake! Papá!"
Panic-stricken now, Papá stomps his foot on the brake, with no luck.
He grabs Mamá's hand bracing for the impact.
I'm hyperventilating fully aware I wasn't wearing a seat belt.
Tears steam down my face as Papá attempts to make a last effort at braking.
He swerves the car in an attempt at missing the train, but the car slams into the side with such force.
I'm catapulted out of my seat into blackness.

I suck in a choked breath and sit up clutching my face that just flew through glass seconds prior. I was fine.
I was alive.
This was a recurring nightmare I had since their gruesome death. I was never in the car though on the day of their accident. The dream always plays out the same: my parents unable to hear me and the brakes failing on the car.
My heart was still pounding in my chest but I was growing accustomed to the frequency of this dream.
I can clearly hear Cindy's light snoring on the sofa. She was wiped out after today.
I'll have to ask her in the morning how her date went. Or I guess later this afternoon.
It was already 7A.M. and by her snoring, she shows no signs of waking up soon.
I settle back onto Zak's pillow and drift asleep.