Indelible

I let out a long sigh as we pulled up to the house. It sat on the shore with supports holding it up above the crashing waves of the ocean. It was a one story house with an attic but was very wide for its rather squattiness. It was blue, with several windows that showed off the view of the water. The driveway was concrete with some sand thinly covering it. At the end of the drive was two flights of stairs each with five steps leading up to the front door of the house. I scanned the surrounding area before I told myself to just get out of the car already. My mother was already out of the car, carrying a box up the stairs. I hadn't even heard her get out of the car.

I sighed again and unbuckled the seat belt, and slid out of the car. I rounded to the trunk and pulled a small and light box out, following Mom up the stairs with it. I decided to help her today, I hadn't helped her pack so the least I could do was help her unpack. Even if I did have my objections to moving in the first place. But with one look at my brace-clad wrist I pushed the thoughts away. Deep down I knew the move was necessary - even if our house hadn't burned down. I did not need my sprained wrist and broken fingers to know that. Or my singed hair and burnt patches of skin that was just now turning into scars. Not even the many yellow bruises. I was damaged on the inside just like I was on the outside.

As I walked inside the open front door, I took a look around the familiar house. The walls were high, the rooms spacious even with the cluttering furniture and appliances. The walls were painted a taupe color, that fit nicely with the beige furniture. All the wood was mahogany, including the hardwood floors of the living room and hallways. I stepped into the house more and looked around into the kitchen, the rubber soles of my shoes squishing against the tile floors. I set the box I was carrying down on the island.

"What do you think?" My mother's voice startled me, and I spun around to see her leaning against one of the walls that separated the kitchen from the living room and dining room. She gave me an apologetic smile when she realized she had startled me. "I'm sorry, I thought you heard me walking up."

"It's fine, Mom, just lost in my thoughts I guess. It's just like I remember. It's so beautiful." I smiled softly at her. It had been a little over a year since I had last been here. It was still so beautiful. Not much had really changed, except for its occupants.

She nodded lightly and smiled too. She stood up straight and walked over to me. She ran her hand through my short light brown hair and looked into my gray eyes. I could see the sadness reflected in her eyes. She kissed my forehead hesitantly, afraid I would pull away, but I relaxed in her arms. I had not let her touch me like this since the accident. She relaxed too and I heard her sigh of relief. She didn't hug me, just kept her one hand on my shoulder and the other running through my hair. It had grown out since being singed off in the fire, but there were still a few places where the hair would not grow, since there were now scars there. My hair went to about the middle of my ear.

We were interrupted by a knocking on the open front door. My mother jumped a bit, as did I. I let out a sigh and looked up at my mother. She looked regretful as she pulled away from me.

"Hello," I heard her greet whoever was at the door. I slowly peeked my head around the corner to see a tall boy with a cap on his head standing on the porch, along with another boy who was shorter than the first. I could see a some blonde hair slipping out of the taller guy's hat, and the shorter one also had blonde hair. They were both clad in jeans, but the taller one was wearing a button-up flannel with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and the shorter one was wearing a plain black t-shirt. The taller one was barefoot. The shorter one was wearing a pair of beat up Converse.

"Hello ma'am, we saw you come up the drive and figured you were the new owners of the house. We were just passing by and wanted to see if you needed any help unloading boxes or anything." The taller one spoke. I was surprised by his husky voice, it didn't match his boy-ish features. He looked about sixteen (a year younger then me) but I would bet him to be older by his height and mature sounding voice. He did have an authority aura about him which also contradicted his young features. The shorter one looked about fourteen or thirteen, and he definitely looked young, younger than the former.

My mother's mouth fell open slightly in surprise. "Of course, thank you so much boys. It is just my daughter and me. My daughter has injured her hands too, and neither of us are very strong." Her laughter rang throughout the house.

I shrank back and hid behind the wall again. I sighed lightly, I really wasn't up to dealing with anyone excluding my mother. She was about the only person I could really handle right now.

"It's no problem, we're happy to help." I heard a different voice say. It had to be the younger and shorter boy, since his voice was higher pitched than the other one.

I blocked out the rest of their small chatter only their names slipping through. The deeper voice introduced himself as Cameron and the other boy, his brother, as Logan. I vaguely heard their retreating steps as they walked back down the stairs to get the rest of the boxes. We hadn't brought much, the only big things we brought were my art supplies. Mostly the boxes were filled with some of Mom's treasures and jewelry and most of her clothes, and my few belongings and the scarce amount of clothes that hadn't been ruined in the fire.

My heart throbbed painfully at the thought of the fire. I shook the thoughts away and started walking out of the kitchen. I decided to busy myself and see if there were any boxes left I could carry. Even though I didn't want to deal with the boys, I did promise myself I'd help Mom. I slowly made my way down the front stairs and saw the boys loading two boxes each in their arms. They had just gotten a good grip on them and started turning to put them in the house when I got to the car. I ducked around to the other side of the car to avoid them.

They hadn't appeared to see me as the began walking to the stairs. I was relieved and rounded the car to see my mom holding the last box, just closing the trunk. I frowned lightly, I wished I could have helped. My mom looked up when she saw me.

"I wanted to come down to help, but I guess you got it all." I murmured.

"Oh, that's okay honey. You can carry this if you'd like? They were mostly all small and pretty light boxes." Mom offered.

I nodded and took the box from her, stuffing it under my arm and supporting it with my hand. It was marked 'Eliza's clothes' so I knew nothing would be damaged if I did. I followed Mom back up to the house and saw the boys step out. They started down the stairs just as we got to them. I heard my mother thank them, and tell them that was the last of them. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out two five dollar bills, and handed one out to each of the boys.

"Oh no, that's okay, we don't need your money." Cameron said, a smile on his face.

The younger boy, Logan, nudged him. It was supposed to be subtle, but I had a knack for being intuitive and picking things out like that. Logan made it look like he was just stepping back and with his arm jutted out for balance, accidently hit Cameron. But I knew once he'd turned his head and squinted his eyes, it was on purpose.

"No, no, I insist. I appreciate your help boys, this is the least I could do." My mother continued to hold the money out. Logan skipped down the four steps separating us and took the money appreciatively.

"Thank you." Logan said, smiling at my mom. He glanced at me but then looked away and started down the rest of the stairs.

I looked up when Cameron stepped down the stairs too. I could feel his eyes on me and when I looked up I looked right into his sea green eyes. My own gray ones broke the connection just a few moments after.

"Come on Cam, Mom will be home soon!" I heard Logan call, and I glanced over to see him standing in the driveway, waiting impatiently for Cameron.

"Thanks again, miss..." Cameron trailed off since he didn't know our last name.

"Rae, but please just call me Jacklyn. And you're welcome Cameron. Thank you for the help." Mom smiled up at him. Mom and I were both slim and petite, versus Cameron who was tall and sort of broad with muscle.

"You're welcome Jacklyn. I better hurry off though, Logan looks about ready to come back and drag me." Cameron chuckled.

I agreed silently, Logan was pacing now, ready to leave. Cameron began down the stairs again and he looked at me as he passed. I felt self-conscious under his look, as I always was when someone looked at me. I was left ugly after the fire. My stomach flipped when our eyes connected once again, but I wasn't sure if it was in nervousness or what.

"Bye." He said softly to me, in his husky voice.

"Bye." I half muttered, nodding lightly. He smiled at me and continued down the stairs. I watched Logan throw his arms up in exasperation. I heard him say a 'finally' and heard Cameron's laugh. I chewed on my lip and walked up the rest of the stairs to the house.

As my mom and I brought the boxes inside and set them down, a wave of fatigue hit me. I hadn't slept well in weeks, but I hadn't even taken a nap in over a day. I yawned as I ran a hand through my short hair. I wished it was longer. I missed my mid-back length hair. My hair normally grew out pretty fast, so I hoped it wouldn't be too long until it would be at least shoulder length.

"Why don't you go up to your room and take a nap, sweetie?"

I peeked at my mom as she looked up from the box she was ripping open. I nodded to her.

"While you sleep I'll get the attic set up, and we'll make it into your studio like I promised, okay?" She smiled.

I smiled back at her. "That sounds great Mom."

None of my art had been ruined in the fire - of which I was immensely grateful - since it had been in the far corner of the house where the fire hadn't reached. I'd had my own studio back in Vienna Valley in Washington, and when Mom told me I could have the attic to myself here in Rockshore, California, I was easier on her about moving. Now that we were actually here, this warmed my heart.

The beach house had been a gift from my grandfather to my grandmother when they had gotten married. I always loved when they'd visit and tell the story. I hadn't known my grandfather or grandma on my father's side of the family (I hadn't known anybody on that side, actually). So Grandma and Grandpa Rae taught me all of the things my mama didn't. Grandma taught me how to play the piano, and Grandpa taught me how to drive a pick-up truck when I was only thirteen. We'd visit each other often, and I'd always loved the beach house. After they died, Mom told me they left the beach house to us in their will. I was only fifteen at the time. When our house went up in flames a couple months ago, we had nowhere to live. I was in the hospital the majority of those months so Mom had just stayed with me until I was good to go. With no home, and no one willing to take us in - the only people who would have, had died or didn't have a home of their own - the neighboring house had caught on fire as well, it was actually the house that caught first - we had to pack up and come here.

I padded down the hallway, looking around at all the pictures and decorations adorning the walls. I got to the end of the hallway and turned to the door, my door, that was marked 'Eliza' in purple paint. I smiled, remembering the summer when Mom and I came down and Grandma decided to personalize my bedroom door. She'd said it was mine, and I needed to own it. The main color of the door was white, and the letters were bubbly and purple. Below it, was a painting of a girl sat at a piano, looking out her window at the crashing waves of the ocean. Her window was open, blowing her sea blue colored curtains and her aureate dreamcatcher. The dreamcatcher's feathers were blowing in every which way. The painting was beautiful. The painting was of me, and I had drawn it. I remembered how proud I was when I'd finished. Everyone else was too, so much they hired me to draw on their own doors. I was elated, and had agreed.

Smiling at the memories, I turned the doorknob and swung the door open. I stepped into the slightly vast room. My eyes flitted around, taking in the room that hadn't changed a bit since the last time I'd been here. The same dreamcatcher in the picture was still hanging in the window. The window was still halfway covered by the blue curtains. The walls were still that pale indigo color they'd been since I was twelve and painted them. The closet was still small but wide and holding extra clothes I hadn't worn in over a year. The bed was still wide and raised above a computer desk with a desktop computer and lamp resting on it, along with old photographs and drawings. The ladder resting against the wall leading up to the bed still had Christmas lights wrapped around it. They were also wrapped around the railing surrounding the bed. There was still a TV bolted to the wall up high, so I could sit on my bed and watch it. There was still a big plush purple rug covering half the floor. My eyes scanned the far wall with the closet door, which also had paintings and drawings and photographs adorning it. The only thing that was different, was the piano that used to clutter the middle of the room was gone. I knew it was up in the attic now, where my art supplies would soon join it.

I slipped off my shoes and kicked them off into a corner. I didn't bother taking off my hoodie and just pulled the hood up over my head. I slid off my jeans and reached into the closet for an old pair of volleyball shorts I'd gotten paint splatters on a while ago, so I'd taken them down here. I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains closed, blocking the summer sun from shining into the room. The lights had never been turned on, so now it was dark in the room. I fumbled for the light switch I knew would be on the ladder. When I found it, I flicked it on and watched the purple and blue lights flash on. I smiled and rushed up the five steps of the ladder, then fell onto my bed. I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes, resting my hands on my stomach. I could feel my breathing begin to even out, my hands rising and falling with every breath. Listening to the comforting sounds of the crashing waves, I was lulled into sleep.