Carved

CHAPTER 23

ELLA

“Déjà vu.”

My mouth had drawn open when I walked into a scene that was oddly similar to one I had walked into before.  Except this time, Whisper wasn't making out with Dex. She was standing right next to me. Dylan has another busted lip and Dex is nursing a black eye.  Whether they had another bar scuffle or Dex finally retaliated for the practical joke, we don't know. We do know that they will recover from their injuries.  We also know something they don't.

Here's the thing about Whisper and I.  You see, we have this strong connection.  A strong bond or, as some would say, a sisterhood.  However you want to call it, it's this uncontrolled phenomena where we sense and mimic what the other is feeling.  So if one of us cries, the other cries as well. When one laughs the other laughs. I say this because I truly did try to spare the two boys any humiliation.  I really did try not to laugh. However, I made the mistake of glancing over to my best friend and I lost control. We both did and it became full on belly laughter when the boys glared at us in return.

Since we were going to be out for a week, we didn't stock up the refrigerator before we left.  There were no frozen vegetables or meat cuts for their wounds. Which comes to the part they don't know.  The thing is, we have a very friendly neighbor two doors down that works as a doula for many of the town's soon-to-be mothers to assist.  Obviously, we haven't needed her services as a doula, but she has been very helpful with grabbing our mail or our go to person when we need to borrow a cup of milk for a recipe.  She is also a delight to visit or talk to over a cup of tea. We return the favor of being good neighbors as well.  

Now, here's the interesting part.  The sweetheart she is, is always prepared with supplies for birthing or postpartum needs.  Some of these supplies are kept here and out of the reach of her two curious preschoolers. One of these products is something called the padsicles.  They are therapeutic pads used to relieve soreness and irritation after birth. In other words, it's like a frozen sanitary pad we store in our freezer for new mothers.  Two of these pads are now nursing a busted lip and a swelling black eye by handsome and clueless rockstar millionaires. Won't this make a great story to tell during our next tea party? 

I wipe my tears of laughter and walk to Dylan.  He pouts at my continued chuckle and pulls me down on top of him.  I pull the blue wrapped padsicle away from his lip and hide my face against his hard chest to control my laughter.  The scent of him and the feel of his body against mine sobers me up somewhat.

“Kiss and make it better?”  This time I don’t pull back.  I give him a small healing kiss.

“What in the world happened?”  Whisper picks up our broken lamp.

“You have a visitor.”  Dex sneers towards the stairs.

I look up to see Louis walk down the stairs wearing blue plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt.  He keeps a straight face, but his blue eyes sparkle with happiness when he sees me and I mentally hold onto this moment to cherish.  He has a small bruising bump on his forehead peeking under the bangs of his brown hair. He is also holding a padsicle in his hand, but the tears building in my eyes are not from laughter.  “Louis! You’re back!”  

I jump over Dylan and the couch to tackle my older brother with a huge welcome home hug.  He’s been in Europe on a photography project for a few months. It is the longest he has been away from home.  It is good to have him back. 

“Umph. I missed you too, baby sister.  I need to breathe though.” He smiles after I loosen the tight bear hug only to be pushed aside and replaced by Whisper.

Louis and I have become closer than we have ever been since the horrible night.  We realized how close we were to losing each other. He swore up and down he only shared a joint with the others, but they found ecstasy in his system. None of the others were affected, which led the others to believe he was lying.  I stood by my brother. 
 
He was only home for a week after rehab before he decided to move out.  He couldn't stay with Mom and I didn't blame him. She had changed. She accepted money to never speak of what happened and her involvement in the matter.  I bled for that money. Her children nearly died because of it, but she was kissing deposit receipts and hiding money in safes. I couldn't look at her the same.  None of us could.  She was never a mother.  Never our mother.  We accepted that easily and brushed her off like dust on our shoulders.