Taking Chances

Chapter 27

It was late afternoon, but heavy clouds had brought darkness early. July had given way to August and early spring rains washed the streets of Brooksdale clean and but flecks of green in the grass lawns.

Bec had the afternoon and the next morning off. This was rare. Since the Billy-Cart Bash, Paul's Photography Studio had been booked solid and Bec had worked every day for the past two weeks. In that time, she had barely seen Ryan. She hadn't even worked on the youth centre website, or online petition, and Ryan's presentation to the town council was only a few days away.

The pressure was building, and to make matters worse, Phil had contacted her. The letter from Phil arrived but Bec hadn't even opened it. She just threw it in the bin where it still sat.

Bec closed her work laptop with a firm clack, moved to the kitchen and filled her wine glass. She thought about the last few days: a wedding, a maternity shoot, and a sweet sixteen. Plus, her entries to several photography competitions made her life insanely busy.

She took a long, thirsty gulp from her wine glass. Then there was Ryan. He had messaged her trying to set up another date, but she was never free when he was. Maybe it was best. The whole sex thing was still a little awkward. Was she ready, or wasn't she? How would she know? It's not like she was a virgin or anything. She wasn't embarrassed. She sipped at her wine again. Was she scared? She thought Phil was going to be the love of her life and look what happened. That was it: she didn't trust her feelings.

She heard keys in the door and Jen came in. "It's freezing out there!" Jen said as she threw her keys into the bowl on the table and hung up her winter coat. "Spring is supposed to be here and I can't wait a day longer."

She paused when she saw Bec with a glass of wine in her hand.

"Relax," said Bec. It's my first one for the day."

Jen replied, "Less drink might be good for you. Or maybe more Ryan?"

Bec pretended not to hear and poured a glass for Jen, who plopped down on the sofa. Bec's backpack was on the sofa, and Jen moved it. As she put it down, a half-empty vodka bottle rolled out and clinked on the wooden floor. Bec heard the sound and forced herself to keep moving naturally as she walked casually over to Jen.

Jen looked at the bottle, then looked Bec. Her eyes said it all. Accusations, recriminations, shame, and guilt. Bec was trapped. Halfway from the kitchen to the sofa with a glass of red in each hand, her sister's gaze locked onto her.

Bec said, "I just bought it and forgot about it."

Jen stood up. "Are you telling me you bought a half-empty bottle of vodka?" There was that teacher-tone and it was powerful. Bec had no words. She looked down at the glass of wine she had for Jen, extended her hand.

Jen folded her arms and said, "How long have you been hiding this?"

"Only a week or two." Bec didn't want to make it sound as if she had drank a half bottle in a day or two.

Jen's eyes narrowed. "Not this bottle. The drinking. Every night I come home and you're guzzling wine. Now I see you're sneaking more booze during the day. What am I supposed to think, huh?" Bec was caught and she felt like a guilty a teen. There was only one course of action. Get angry back.

"It's so damn easy for you to stand there and judge, isn't it! Miss 'I have a career.' Looking after your washed-up sister. I bet that makes you feel great, doesn't it? Looking after your sister." Bec's temper ran away with her. The boiler of her emotion was stoked and now she let Jen have a full blast of steam.

Bec's voice got louder and louder. She didn't notice the tears running down Jen's face until it was much too late. "You must love all the attention, 'Oh Jennifer, she's so great. Looking after her sister like that.' It's just like when Dad died. You were the fucking hero of the family. Looking after Mum, making sure the house ran smoothly. What was I? I was the drop-kick. The waster. Well, let me tell you, Jennifer Williams, I loved Dad, too. I loved Mum, too. But I was out making something of myself, so I could make them proud."

Now she saw the tears and realized she had gone too far. Jen's reply was low and quiet, "You were out getting drunk and getting fucked any boy who'd have you."

Bec was gut-punched. Fire ran through her veins. She spun on her heels and stalked into the kitchen, hurling the glasses into the sink. They smashed and wine splashed on the floor and across the counter-top.

"Bec, shit!" Jen cried. Bec paid no heed. She stormed across to her backpack, stuffed the vodka bottle in, grabbed her winter coat, wool hat, and left the apartment. She slammed the door as hard as she could and felt the bang vibrate into the corridor.

Ryan still hadn't fixed the clock in his truck, so he guessed it was somewhere around eight-thirty. He was driving home after a solid training session.

It felt good to be physical and let all the stress of the past weeks come out, especially as he hadn't seen Bec in a while. He wondered if he should have talked about sex the way he had the last time she was at his place, after the Billy-Cart Bash. Thick drops of rain began to fall. Ryan slowed so he could see the road better, when he noticed Bec walking along the side of Main Street. Her hair was wet. She tripped and fell. Ryan pulled over and got out of his truck.

"Hi Bec, are you alright?"

Bec pulled herself to her feet, staggered, then focused on Ryan. She had a bottle of vodka in one hand.

"Shit. What happened to you? I'll take you home," Ryan said.

Bec swayed as the wind gusted and rain drops splatted onto herface. "No! I don-wanna-see Jen." She stumbled and Ryan rushed forward. He caught her just in time.

"Whew! Your breath could fuel an ocean-liner." Ryan helped Bec into the passenger seat of his truck. "I'll take you back to Jen's place.

Bec yelled, "No! Not goin.'" Then, "Gonna be sick." She flopped out of the truck, using Ryan to lean on, then vomited on the side-walk.

"Finished," Bec said, and she got back into the Ford.

Ryan closed her door and wondered what he was going to do. Take her back to his place?

Ten-minutes later, Bec was passed-out and Ryan carried her from his truck to the spare bedroom of his house. He tucked her into the bed, put a bucket beside her, and went out.

"Hi. Jen? It's Ryan. Bec's over here."

Jen sounded drunk and angry. She certainly wasn't making a lot of sense. Bec would be sleeping it off at his place.