Hook, Line and Sinker

When I was younger, about five years old, my mom and Dad told my older sister Kate and I that we could be whatever we wanted when we grew up as long as we worked hard enough.

I had immediately declared that I wanted to be an astronaut. Having always had a fascination with space and all the wonders it held. I still had an unexplainable fascination with space to this very day. I used to sit up for hours, staring out at the sky until my parents forced me to go to bed.

Kate, who was four years older and a whole lot wiser than I was, had told us that she planned to be a doctor. Even as a young girl Kate was a very compassionate person. Mom had asked her what she’d wanted for her birthday one year, she just shrugged and asked if they could buy some new toys to donate to the local children’s hospital.

In our part of the country storms are a rare occurrence, but when they hit, they were bad and I was terrified of them. Although, whereas most kids would run to their parents’ room and squeeze into their parents’ bed, I ran to my sister.

As soon as I saw that first telltale flash of light in the sky I would scurry down the hall to Kate’s room, where she would be sitting up on her bed with her arms wide open, ready to sing to me until I fell back to sleep.

That explained why I ran to my sister now. When it felt like I had a tornado, tsunami and a bad storm wreaking havoc in my mind, leaving nothing but destruction behind it.

So here I was, sitting beside her white marble headstone, tracing my fingers over the letters engraved onto the hard surface with small, silent tears running down my cheeks.

In Loving Memory Of
Katherine Jane Miller
1992 - 2002
Beloved Daughter And Sister
Spread Your Wings And Fly High Little Angel

“Hey Kate,” I murmured, laying down the bouquet of dandelions I’d picked on my way up.

Kate’s grave was located in the children’s part of the cemetery, atop a tall hill with no trees to offer an ounce of shade against the harsh sun that seemed to be burning my skin. I didn’t care though, I just wanted to unburden myself to someone.

When Kate was alive she had loved dandelions more than any of the other flowers in the world, even when it had bloomed into that bright yellow flower that was the bane of every gardener’s existence. Whenever they had popped up in our garden Mom had pulled up the weeds right from the root. But if Kate saw them first she would pick a bunch of them and place them in a vase by her bed. It was just like Kate though, finding beauty in something that everyone else thought was ugly.

She used to pick them up whenever she saw them at school and blow the seeds, giggling as they flew around in the air around her. She would tell me to make a wish, scrunching her eyes closed as she made one of her own. I had always tried to find out what her wish was, but she’d just wink and tell me it was a secret.

“Sorry I haven’t been by lately, school has been hectic, but I promise to stop by more often.”

“Tyler’s back,” I confided. Clenching my eyes shut so tightly that I could see bright flashes of light in the blackness behind my lids. An image of his face popped into my mind of it’s own accord and no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t seem to banish it.

“You remember him, right? What am I saying, of course you do. You were the priest at our pretend wedding when I was six.”

I chuckled a little as I recalled my 'wedding' day. I could see an image of Kate with perfect clarity in my mind. That day she’d stood at the alter in her floral summer dress. A small, almost knowing smile upon her face.

Tyler stood next to Kate in one of his dad’s suit jackets. The jacket swamped his small seven year old frame, the cuffs hanging way past the tips of his fingers and his shoulders slumped as though the heavy material was weighing him down. He had also swiped one of his dad’s black ties, which was knotted loosely around his throat. But even in clothes that were way too big for him, he still looked amazing to me.

Then my mom had started to hum the traditional bridal march, signaling my entrance. I had stepped out of the back door and onto the patio, glancing up at Tyler with a sheepish smile.

Mom and Kate had assembled an aisle of sorts; two long rows of blazing candles led the way up to where Kate and Tyler stood waiting. In between those two rows was a strip of grass, covered in petals, each one a different shade of red and pink.

I was wearing a white dress, that was bigger on me than Tyler’s jacket was on him. I remember how I had struggled not to fall over the heavy material. As I slowly made my way up the Greta held the edge of my dress tightly, taking her job of being my bridesmaid oh so seriously.

When I reached Tyler, he’d glanced at me with a nervous smile. It was such a contrast to the smug and overly confident guy I knew now that it knocked the breath out of me.

Then Kate had made us say our vows, funny ones that she made up on the spot. Tyler had slid a ring made of daisies onto my finger and I slipped a silly toy ring onto his, ‘cause and I quote ‘flowers are for girls’.

After a chaste kiss on my cheek we all went into the kitchen, proceeding to stuff ourselves full of cake and other sugary treats that Mom had prepared.

I can’t remember ever being as happy as I had that day, surrounded by my family and friends. The content expression I’d had on my face as I recalled that day vanished as soon as I thought about how much Tyler had hurt me seven months ago.

I sighed, Tyler and I had pretended to be adults that day, but we had no idea what was really in store for us. I would do anything to go back to that day, to be a little girl playing at being a grown up, instead of actually being one.

I idly wondered if blowing the seeds of a dandelion puff actually granted a wish, ‘cause I knew exactly what I would wish for.

“I don’t know what to do Katie.” My tone was hushed as I voiced my confession. “I feel like my life is hanging on the edge of a cliff right now and I’m barely holding on. Tyler coming back, well, I’m worried he will push me all the way off. I’m scared I won’t be able to stop him. I’m scared I won’t want to stop him.”

In that moment as I was ready to start sobbing my heart out a breeze blew by, the branches picked up a slow rhythm that lifted my hair up into the air, sending the strands into a slow dance.

I had never believed that there was an afterlife. In fact I didn’t believe in Heaven or Hell either, it just didn’t seem practical to me.

The whole concept was sort of laughable; it made life seem like one huge test. At the end you’d either fail and be cast down to burn in the fiery pits of Hell. Where the Devil would poke you in the ass with a pitch fork, while those awfully catchy, but terrible pop songs played in the background on repeat. The songs were a form of torture on their own, in my opinion.

Or you’d receive an A+ along with a smiley face sticker, sprout some wings and float on up to Heaven with angels singing and someone playing a harp while you waltzed through the pearly gates.

See what I mean? Downright laughable.

But when that breeze hit me, that soothing breeze, I let myself believe that it was Kate. Just for a second, just for that tiny fraction of time I thought that it was my sister. Maybe, just maybe this was her way of telling me that everything would be okay, just as she had when I’d broken my arm or perhaps this was her way of telling me to stop being so depressing.

Knowing Kate it was probably the latter of the two.

“Enough of this extremely negative talk. I know you, you must be wanting some gossip.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to smile. “I need to tell you about Mom’s latest notch on the bed post. This is number Seven Kate, Seven!” I told her, my tone slightly exasperated.

“I walked into the kitchen this morning and he was in Marvel superhero boxers. I thought they only made them for kids. Mind you, from how tight they were I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d bought the kid sized ones.”

I sat there for at least an hour, telling my sister all the gossip of our town.

I told her all about how her childhood crush, Tom, was meant to be getting married to a girl from out of town next week. But then a scandal had erupted at the worst possible time, when the blushing bride to be had found her soon to be husband in her childhood bed with his best man, at their rehearsal dinner.

“Did I forget to mention that the best man was the bride’s brother? You really dodged a bullet there Katie, he’s such a slime ball.”

Some time later reality came crashing down around me when I heard my phone ring, the jolly ring tone sounded louder in the desolate cemetery. The sound was loud enough to wake the dead. A shiver ran down the length of my spine at the direction of my thoughts, as if a pair of icy lips were trailing up the skin over my bones, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

I hastily scrambled around, reaching into my back pocket to retrieve it. As soon as I answered the call I was greeted by a boisterous, “Where the hell are you?”

With a sigh escaping my lips I reached up to push some fly away strands of hair away from my face. Maya. I swear only Maya Robertson could sound this angry and worried at the same time.

“I’m at the cemetery.” I explained, my voice carefully controlled. An elderly lady a couple of graves over shot me a disapproving look. I guess she didn’t like her mourning to be interrupted by teenagers and their loud phone calls. “I’m sorry if I worried you, Maya. I just needed some space.”

“It’s okay,” she assured me, her voice going back to her usual happy go lucky tone. That’s one of the many things I loved about Maya, her ability to see the good in everything and keep a smile on her face no matter how dire the situation. “Call me later, okay?”

“I will,”

After I hung up the phone I laid a kiss on the cool marble headstone and rested my cheek against it for a mere second.

“Bye Katie. I love you,” I whispered, hoping to feel that comforting breeze again but it never came.

• • •

When I got home the sun was hanging a little lower in the sky casting a beautiful array of colors on the wide expanse of sky. The different shades reminded me of an artists palette, all the different shades spanning out because of two very simple colors had been mixed together.

The walk back from the cemetery had taken me a little longer than I had thought it would, even though I’d taken a shortcut. By the time I got home I was hot and a sheen of sweat had seemed to have taken a permanent residence upon my skin.

When I was inside the house I kicked off my shoes and placed them neatly beside the front door. I could hear the television blaring in the living room, it sounded like the British soap opera that my mom loved to watch so much.

As I wandered through the hallway I looked at each of the pictures that decorated the wood paneled walls.

Photographs taken throughout various stages in my life hung in identical dark wood frames at regular intervals. I swear, each year of my life from the age of six upwards was documented with a picture and put on display for any guests to see. Yes, including the awkward puberty years.

There was absolutely no pictures of Kate in our house. A few weeks after she’d died Mom had boxed them all up and hidden them away in the dusty attic. It was as if she believed that if she hid all reminders of Kate that she would forget that she’d died, or that she’d even lived at all.

If it wasn’t for the fact that I’d grabbed one of the smaller pictures of Kate before they got shoved into attic, I probably wouldn’t even remember what my sister looked like.

I sighed and continued my examination of the pictures. In each one my smile looked a little sadder, my eyes a little wearier as I grew up and learnt the truth about world. All except from when I was sixteen; the year I’d gotten with Tyler. My expression looked radiant in that picture.

Don’t think about him, I ordered myself and with a mental slap to my face. But as I looked at my smiling face, all I could think about was Tyler and all that had happened today. The scene in the parking lot, the memories of him on our 'wedding' day.

Stop it, Poppy!

Resolutely, I brushed all thoughts of him aside and strode away from the hallway. Leaving the picture of my sixteen year old self, with her happy smile that mocked me, behind.

Our living room had undergone some serious changes in the past few months. Our whole house had, actually. When Dad left my mom didn’t want to have painful reminders of her ex husband or her old life every time she looked around the house.

So now, our once warm brown living room walls were painted in a sultry dark red. The beige curtains with flower prints dotted around them had been replaced by heavy black drapes.

Those drapes were drawn now and if it wasn’t for the dim light bulb in the silver lamp and the minimal light coming from the TV the whole room would be encased in darkness.

Mom was sitting on the black leather couch, her feet tucked under her. In her right hand was a glass of red wine, the little liquid that was left in the bottom sloshed around whenever she moved her arm. In her left hand she was clutching one of the red cushions, that usually lay upon the couch, tightly to her chest.

“I’m home,” I called out to her five minutes later, when she still hadn’t noticed I was standing in the doorway. The TV droned on in the background, a man and a woman on the screen were having an an intense argument. Mom stared at the screen as if she was in some kind of trance by the show.

“Shhh,” she hissed, never taking her eyes off the screen. I rolled my eyes, I had no idea why she watched this stuff.

As I collected the empty bottle of wine off the table and went into the kitchen I found myself wondering how many of these she’d already emptied today.

My stomach growled, as it had been doing for the past hour and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. After I dumped the bottle into the garbage I started to hunt around inside the fridge for something to eat. Time to feed the monster that is my stomach.

Ever since Dad left 5 months ago Mom had started to shirk her responsibilities, meaning I had to step up and become the adult in the house. Nowadays Mom would rather lounge on the couch nursing her beloved wineglass, watching those ridiculous TV programs than cook a meal. I didn’t mind cooking, hell I liked to do it half the time. The meticulous preparation it required helped me drown out my thoughts, but sometimes, I just wished my mom would start acting like my mom again.

I pulled out a container with left over lasagne and shoved it in the microwave.

“Mom!” I shouted. A few minutes later I heard the TV turn off and her footsteps padding towards me.

I sat down at the breakfast bar, emptying the contents of my backpack onto the smooth granite surface. I decided to get some homework done while I waited for my lasagne. I looked up from my chemistry paper when I heard the kitchen door open.

When I’d come in I hadn’t noticed my mom’s attire, but now I felt my jaw drop. Mom stood in the doorway in a tight, dark red dress that clung to her body like cling film, showing off each and every curve. Her blond hair was styled in a careless way that I knew for a fact had taken her at least an hour to achieve. She had smoky gray eye-shadow on, accentuating her green eyes, with a bold red lipstick to match the dress.

There was no doubt about it, my mom looked stunning. She looked like she’d just stepped right off the catwalk and into our kitchen.

“You look amazing.” She grinned at the compliment and reached down to place a delicate kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you, honey.”

I beamed at her, it was nice to see her happy again. Since the divorce the only smiles I ever saw upon her lips were the fake ones she put there. “I’m heating up some lasagne, do you want anything?”

“Oh no, that’s okay honey. Dominic is coming to take me out for dinner. Hence,” she said, gesturing up and down her body. “All of this. Gotta dress to impress.”

I nodded and turned back to my chemistry homework. So Seven had actually asked her on a date and she’d accepted. I didn’t understand why this surprised me so much, he’d already stayed for breakfast which was something that had never happened before. But yet I stared at my mom totally and utterly confused.

Luckily the microwave beeped, saving me from having to reply. I hopped up from my seat and retrieved the steaming hot food from the microwave, quickly placing it on a plate to bring back over to the breakfast bar.

My chemistry homework was due by tomorrow and certain questions were causing problems for my already frazzled brain. But I was determined to get an A. I needed to maintain my grades if I had any hope becoming a doctor.

I was scribbling the answer to one of the questions in to my blue notebook and raising a forkful of lasagne to my lips when the doorbell rang.

“That’ll be him,” Mom squealed, looking positively giddy with excitement as she spun on her six inch heels and practically skipped towards the door.

As soon as I heard Seven’s smooth, deep voice purr my mother’s name I narrowed my eyes at my chemistry paper. I didn’t know what it was about that man, but just the sound of his voice seemed to set me on edge.

“I’ve just got to grab my coat and then we can go,” My mom was saying, her voice bright and cheerful.

“Okay sexy,” I heard the unmistakable smacking of lips and I almost gagged on the lasagne that was in my mouth.

My mom came into the kitchen moments later, reaching up to pull her hair out from the collar of her coat. I tried not to notice the way her lipstick was smudged.

She grinned at me, I smiled back, tentatively. “Now, I’ll be back before midnight. No wild parties,” she warned with a wink in my direction. I rolled my eyes. Yeah, as if. I had school to concentrate on, if I wanted to become a doctor I had to get straight A’s.

“Damn it,” I murmured under my breath, yet still loud enough for her to hear. I looked at her with a slight smirk on my lips. “Looks like I’ll have to cancel the keg and male strippers. Maya will be so disappointed.”

She let out a loud laugh as Seven came wandering into the kitchen, he was walking around my house as if he owned the place. I felt my eye twitch in anger and my grip on my pen tightened a fraction. How dare he.

He glanced at me, his smile broadening. “Hey kiddo,”

I just nodded in response, too frustrated to talk. I knew that if I did open my mouth, the words that would come out of my mouth would not be pleasant at all and would most likely end up with me getting grounded.

Call me crazy, but I didn’t think Seven was worth a potential grounding and possibly missing out on this weekends camping trip.

“You ready to go?” His voice sounded bright, a little too bright if you ask me. I just pushed my lasagne to the side, my appetite had vanished as soon as I’d heard Seven’s voice.

My mom nodded enthusiastically, leaning down to place yet another kiss on my cheek. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve all this motherly affection, but I wasn’t about to start complaining.

“Be good. Don’t wait up.” She told me, grabbing Seven’s offered hand and letting the idiot whisk her away.

I gathered my homework and stomped up the stairs like a petulant child who’d had their favourite toy taken away. I let my bare feet slam a little too harshly into the wooden stairs, wincing slightly at the pain it caused.

Upon entering my room I threw the papers onto my bed without a care as to where they landed and I raced over to my window, desperate for the fresh air and clarity being out there seemed to provide.

I flicked the latch open and climbed out, without a moments hesitation this time. It was a bit easier to get myself situated on the roof today and within minutes I was sat staring at the calming scenery of the town ahead of me.

I saw Seven’s car speeding down our street, when he came to the end he turned left and I followed the journey of the car until the houses obscured it from my view.

The sun had disappeared in the time that I’d been in the house. Now the moon took it’s place in the sky, lighting up the town with a bright glow. I could see the street lights flickering on in the town below me. I took a deep breath, focusing on the way it expanded in my lungs instead of the events of the day

“Hey there Poppy,” I heard from beside me and my breath flew out of my lungs in an audible whoosh, as if someone had slapped my back and winded me.

I turned to look at him, my heart beating just a little bit too fast.

There he was, his legs dangling off the edge like they had yesterday. His messy brown hair partway concealed by the navy beanie I’d bought him two years ago for his birthday. His eyes, those bright blue eyes that reminded me so much of the ocean on a summers day, were staring right at me as if he could see all my pain and anguish.

“Hey there Tyler,” I breathed, almost laughing out loud when I remembered it was exactly how we’d greeted each other yesterday.

“I’m sorry, about this afternoon.” I gazed at him, my face no doubt contorting into a look of shock.

Tyler Burke had never been the kind of guy to apologize. Sure, he would smile and shower me with gifts whenever he did something wrong, hoping to earn my forgiveness. But those two words, those simple words that meant a whole lot more than some meaningless gift, had never fell from his plump lips.

He lifted one shoulder into a careless shrug, his eyes still staring deeply into mine. “I shouldn’t have brought up the past,”

“No,” I agreed, nodding at him. I watched with confusion when he winced, as if agreeing with him physically pained him in some way. “You shouldn’t have. But I won’t yell at you again. No doubt Greta has already beat me to another shouting match with you anyway.”

He chuckled, his eyes flashing with the humour I knew so well. “Oh, you’re right there.” he informed me, reaching into his pocked and drawing out a pack of cigarettes. He shook one loose, bringing it up to his lips with those long, graceful fingers of his.

Those fingers that used to wind themselves inside my hair was we’d kissed, those fingers that used to wipe away my tears and stroke my cheek gently.

Those fingers were like a talisman of our past and I couldn’t look at them, or him in fact, for more than a second without feeling the overwhelming urge to cry. I looked away quickly, my breath trapped in my throat.

“Greta threatened to chop my balls off if she ever sees tears in your eyes because of me,” He said it jokingly, but I could hear the truth behind his words. There was no doubt in my mind that Greta had actually threatened him. “Not that I ever want to see tears in your eyes because of me, not again.” His voice had taken on a dark tone and I knew exactly what he was thinking about.

The memory made an unwanted appearance in my own mind but I pushed it back down, right back down into the darkest recesses of my mind, where it belonged.

“Let’s not go there,” I suggested lightly. When I looked at him again he had the cigarette lit and in place between his lips. His hands were clenched into fists in his lap and he stared at them as if they held all the answers to the worlds greatest mysteries.

“Mhm,” he murmured, nodding his head. But I could tell from the way he said it that he was distracted, that he was still lost inside the memory.

“Tyler,” I called. He glanced up at me, his eyes full of pain and I felt that pain lance through my heart. Even after everything that had happened, I hated seeing him hurt. “Forget about it.”

“It’s not that simple; but your wish is my command, sweetheart. As always.”

I smiled gratefully. He gazed at me for a moment before taking a deep drag of his cigarette and letting the smoke out into the air.

For that beat of a second while we both sat there and stared at each other on our respective roofs, it was as if life was simple. It was like my life wasn’t in turmoil and my mind wasn’t a bloody battlefield.

Tyler just had to break the spell though, his lips turning up into that smirk that made him look devilishly handsome. “I’ve got to ask,” his voice rumbled, deep and soft as ever. A feeling of dread settled over me, my stomach churning uncomfortably. What did he want to know?

“Why Bubble Gum?”

I laughed. A genuine, full-blown laugh that left my stomach hurting and brought tears to my eyes.

“Careful,” he said, his eyes and voice alight with his humour. I could tell he was holding back his own laughter. “Don’t want you to fall off and hurt that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart.”

I rolled my eyes at him which finally pushed him over the edge and then his own chuckles joined mine. Our laughter filled the silent air and then the crickets joined in, chirping away. It was like a song, a song that I could very well get stuck in my head.

As my laughs subsided into small chuckles I reached up to wipe away tears from my eyes.

“Why Bubble Gum? You ask. Well, when I saw you yesterday, I told myself you were just like a piece of bubble gum on my shoe. That you’d be easy to ignore. I should have known that wouldn’t be the case.” I cast him a look of mock anger and he grinned as if he was thoroughly pleased with himself. Knowing Tyler he probably was. “But you just seem to keep wedging yourself deeper into my shoe and my life.” I admitted with a sigh.

It was so true, the more I told myself not to think of him, the more I did. I couldn’t escape Tyler or my past anymore than I could sprout wings and fly. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try. Tyler had hurt me, a lot, and I’d be damned if I let him do it again. You know how the saying goes, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

“Just out of curiosity,” Tyler said pulling me from my thoughts. He took a deep drag of his cigarette, before putting it out against his boot and flicking it down onto the patio. “What flavour bubble gum am I?” I burst into laughter again.

Then I realized why I looked so happy in that picture in the hallway, the one taken the year I’d started to date Tyler. It was because he could make me laugh, no matter how sad or bad my life was, he could always take me away from my mind and make me laugh.

“Sour apple,”

“Huh, I guess I’m lucky you like all things sour then aren’t I?” He responded with a wink in my direction. I just rolled my eyes and cast him a warning look, letting him know that he was unlocking a door that I wasn’t ready to open yet. If I was honest, I didn’t know if I ever would be.

He shrugged, an easy going smile on his face and let it go.

We sat there for hours, long after the other lights in his house went out. Sometimes talking, sometimes just sat in a comfortable silence. For the first time in weeks, no for the first time since my dad left and my life started to fall apart, I felt truly at peace. The smile that was on my lips wasn’t forced at all, it was just there because I was unable to stop it from slipping onto my lips.

Later, when I saw Seven’s car rumbling down the street I bid Tyler goodnight, before climbing back into my bedroom.

As I showered and pulled on my pyjamas I contemplated what had happened earlier. We’d had some kind of truce out there on the roof, an unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t argue or talk about the past.

As nice as it had been to relax and be myself with someone, even if it was Tyler, it couldn’t happen again. I promised myself that the night of talking on the roof was just a one time thing. I wouldn’t let it happen again, I couldn’t.

I didn’t think my heart could stand it, I knew for sure my mind certainly couldn’t.

But later that night, when I finally slipped into bed, exhaustion weighing me down like a tonne of bricks, that damn smile came up onto my lips again. No matter what I tried I couldn’t seem to shake it off.

A bit like Tyler, I thought sleepily, before I was lost in the haze of my dreams.