As Dakota Akihara crashes, Rhea Walton falters.
While one is drug away from a life in the 1%, the other finds it increasingly-unbearable to put up with the crushingly-expected and dependable monotony of slow business, bills to pay, and mou...
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It was so fucking hot.
I tugged at the hem of my shirt, hoping for some amount of ventilation. The heat heavier and muggier than in the city. Playing soccer would suck ass.
Placing my hands behind me I leant back letting my vision swim out of focus so that the blue gravel driveway looked like a river parting through lush greenery instead of towering, leafy trees.
Refocusing my eyes though, yanked me back to Morgantown, Kentucky, and the reality that my best friends were 900 miles away. I hadn't even really said goodbye. Louisa and I were at French school when I suddenly and abruptly called to the office and picked up. I had multiple days worth of missed calls and unopened texts, many from them, but I was couldn't bring myself to answer anyone. Somehow, it felt like doing that would make this all more permanent. And this situation, I barely knew what to make of it.
Soon after Grandma and I arrived, I learned that the woman, Clara, was my aunt. From the looks of it, we found out at the same time. I also learned that the kids: sixteen-year-old Liam, and the twins, eight-year-olds Elizabeth, and Dylan were my cousins. It was a wonderful little information dump that left me speechless.
I barely made it to the end of lunch–meat sandwiches, passive comments about my mother, and curious stares from cousins, when I had had enough. Twenty minutes later I was on the front steps, trying to defuse the anxiety sitting heavy in my stomach. Ironically, for probably the first time in my life, I was at peace in solitude. I lightly rapped my knuckles on the wood.
Better to be safe, than sorry.
Well, somewhat peace in solitude, anything was better than inside. The door creak open and closed, footsteps picking their way towards me.
Superstitions were bullshit.
"Damn, its hot." My aunt took a seat next to me, fanning herself with her hands.
I huffed in agreement, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow.
"Well–" Clara plucked a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from her pocket "–welcome to Kentucky." She pulled out a cigarette and placed it in the corner of her mouth, just like Dad did whenever something stressed him out.
"You smoke?" She extended the pack towards me. Was she seriously offering me a cigarette?
"Not those." I was gonna my reword that statement but decided against it. Mom wasn't here and Clara seemed like the type of person who wouldn't give a shit. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. Where was she? It had almost been a day and she hadn't bothered so much as to text me.
"'Not those' huh." Clara lit the cigarette and put the lighter back in her pocket. We fell into a taught, awkward silence. I centered my gaze on a tree straight ahead, trying to ignore Clara's heavy gaze.
"You're her kid." It was an observation but it was stated like a question. I breathed in.
"One of them." She gave me a confused look.
"Eight-year-old sister." I added, swaying slightly towards her in acknowledgment.
"Ah" She nodded her head in remembrance. "Forgot about her. Aya, right?" I nodded my head. Clara frowned.
"The one she up and ran with." She shook her head in disgust, before glancing back at me. "I can't believe her. You'd have to kill me before I did that to any of my three monsters. They may drive me crazy, but they mean more to me than my life." I felt a twinge in my chest and it must've shown on my face because Clara redirected her line of questioning.
"I hear you grew up in New York City, of all places?"
"Mostly, yeah." She frowned.
"Mostly?"
"We lived in France a few years, around when I was in elementary school." Clara muttered something under her breath.
"And Japan, but only for a year. Then we came back." I anxiously, unable to stop myself from nervously continuing.
"How old are you, Dakota?" Her question stopped me in my tracks, didn't she know?
"Seventeen." She shook her head, as if in disbelief before turning to face me. I focused once again on the gravel.
"You know," Clara started again, this time a look of pity visible on her face from the corner of my eye.
"it's all a real shame." I glanced back at her in the silence that followed, unable to reply. What could I? Nothing felt right. The familial estrangement sat heavy in the air, and we were both painfully aware of that fact. When the moment passed, Clara ran her hands down the sides of her legs.
"I better check on the brats." Her cigarette hit the ground, her foot crunching it into the gravel. "Sorry he's been so tough on you." I looked up, surprised. I hadn't thought anyone had cared.
"I doubt you'd be here if Melissa had a choice. Whatever's happening, if it's her, if it's your father—"
I almost felt my heart stop.
"–I'm sure it's hard enough on its own and I'm just sorry your granddad isn't making it easier." I didn't respond to that but it was probably for the best. I felt my defused emotions start to rise up again.
"They were pretty close you know, it hit him really hard when she left—hope that's not too much." I shook my head on auto pilot.
If they were so close, why'd she leave?
"Her waltzing in and out like that, after all these years of silence, it's been tough on him. It's been tough on all of us, I didn't think I'd see my sister again. And now I have a nephew. And a niece." I looked at the ground, kicking a piece of gravel with my foot. Clara rested a hand on my arm and the action made me look up.
"You're welcome here, Dakota, please remember that." She then let go of my arm, rising and moving towards the door. "Come back in whenever you're ready."
