Hello! This is the eleventh installment of the twenty-one chapter novel In the Pines by Wells Thompson (that’s me). I’ll be publishing one chapter a week on Substack until it’s all up, so if this is the first one you’re seeing, you can find the previous chapters in the Newsletter backlog. I hope you enjoy the ride!
“You’d been keeping up with things back home for a while, hadn’t you?” Kayla and the old man sat on the wide, sloping steps to an old museum and Kayla was examining a statue of a horse, the knuckle of her thumb pressed against her lips.
“I thought you only knew what you were there to see?” She darted her eyes at him as he nodded slowly.
“I’m more than capable of piecing things together for myself. You were reading the newspaper to keep up with the Clement campaign, yes?”
“Didn’t have much use for the paper otherwise.”
“I imagine not.” He grabbed inside his pocket and pulled out some seed, then scattered it on the sidewalk and watched the birds swarm in front of them. Kayla looked back at the statue.
“You know what I don’t get? How did they get those divets in the statue?”
“Hmm?”
“Look there.” She pointed along the side of the horse’s chest, where the ribs seemed to bulge out and curve, first in then out. “How do they make it look like that. Like it’s stretched across the bone like real skin?”
“I couldn’t say exactly. I was always mesmerized by man’s creativity. It has to be your best feature.” They admired the statue and let the silence pass between them for a few minutes before Kayla spoke back up.
“When Sarah told me about her father, I couldn’t help myself. I just started looking for any sign of his name thinking maybe he got caught. Maybe the world would work itself out. For a long time, I didn’t see anything. Then he ran for congress and suddenly his name was everywhere.”
“That must have been frustrating. How is it that you found out? To my knowledge it’s not something that Sarah freely discusses.”
Kayla paused for a moment. “You don’t have a smoke, do you?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Damn. I could go for a cigarette right now.”
“Kayla.”
“Hmm?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Kayla sighed. “Dumb luck.” She looked at him with mild pride and made a sudden move to scatter the pigeons that were still scrounging for the old man’s seeds. “And a little alcohol.”
***
Kayla was very nearly bursting from her skin by the time Sarah got home from work, so she was naturally a little disappointed when Sarah didn’t immediately return her enthusiasm. “Aren’t you excited?” She jumped up and down and smiled with her mouth open to annoy Sarah into laughing. It didn’t work, at least, not at first.
“No,” she said, “I’m not sure, exactly, what I’m not excited about, but I’m exhausted, so whatever you’re planning, just no.” Sarah slumped onto the couch without caution and the springs ached under her weight and shot her up slightly with a creek.
“It’s just a clopening, Sarah, no need to be dramatic,” Kayla smirked. She adjusted her green and orange flannel and continued to bounce to a rhythm only she could make out.
“No, it’s two clopenings. Two nights ago, yesterday morning, last night, and this morning. Please let me take a nap!”
“Hmm,” Kayla hummed, stroking a phantom beard, “No! It’s a special day and you’re a special lady so we’re going out.”
Sarah stared at Kayla with half-dead eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with Kayla? Also what is with that shirt and, more importantly, why won’t you leave me alone?”
“In no order, this is my ugly shirt that I’m wearing to deflect attention so that all the men folk will swoon and sigh over you and not me. It is me, the incomparable Ms. Barnes, and I’m excited because today is your twenty-first birthday and we are going out tonight and getting schmammered like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I’m only eighteen. And besides, it’s March, my birthday is in November.”
“Yeah, but your fake’s birthday is today, and that’s the one that really counts.” Sarah pulled out her I.D. to confirm and, indeed, it was her fake I.D.’s twenty-first birthday, a quirk of Kayla’s half baked forgery that mixed up their personal details in a way that Kayla adopted instantly and Sarah resisted with every fiber of her being.
Sarah sighed. “Before I, again, tell you I am tired and not going out, I need you to explain why you’re shaking like a chihuahua.”
“Oh this?” Kayla dropped her shoulders and stopped swaying and smiling. Her tone of voice dropped to her normal pitch and her arms crossed as her smile turned sideways and her eyes became harshly directed. Sarah looked away instinctively. “I’m you, this is you, this is what you’re like.”
“I am not that animated all the time.” Sarah furled her brow and crossed her arms, exaggerating her offense.
“Really?” Kayla pulled a picture out of her pocket and unfolded it, putting it on the table between them. It was a print of a picture she’d found on the internet, a closeup of a corgi’s smiling face.
Sarah waved her arms in front of her and smiled uncontrollably. “Oh my god, it’s so cute, I just want to snuggle it and—.” She stopped herself and looked up at Kayla, who was humming and nodding slightly. “Wow, I really am like that. How do you deal with me?”
“I mostly just ignore you until you calm down.”
Sarah looked to the side and then back at Kayla. “You know, that’s actually great advice.” She laid down on the couch and closed her eyes, then pulled her knees up to about the level of her waist and smiled.
Kayla deflated for a moment, then sat in the crevice Sarah made with her body between her knees and her chin. “C’mon, the bars think you’re twenty-one for the first time ever, do you really want to spend all that time sleeping?”
“Yes,” Sarah said without opening her eyes. Kayla scratched her arm.
“If you don’t get up, I’ll start singing that song that you hate.”
“You don’t know any songs that I hate.”
“Little girl,” Kayla sang.
Sarah’s eyes opened. “Stop it.”
“Little girl,”
“Stop it, now.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Sarah threw one of the small pillows on the couch at Kayla’s head. “Why are you so obsessed with this? It’s not even my birthday, it’s yours. You should know that, you’re the one that fucked up the fake IDs.”
Kayla laughed, deeply amused by her own antics. “Fair point, it is my birthday. Did you get me anything?”
Sarah looked straight forward, still lying on the couch. “I hate you.”
“You didn’t, did you? I suppose you could make it up to me somehow.”
“No!”
“Come on, we’ve been living together for three years now and you’ve still never hit the town with me. There’s not even that much town to hit! You’re going to waste away in this apartment if you don’t leave eventually. Besides, when have I ever steered you wrong? Let me tell you a long and boring story about a girl I once knew who—”
“Fine! I’ll go out with you, just please stop.”
“Great, I already picked out a dress for you. You’re going to look stunning.” She turned her voice inside-out so the word ‘stunning’ came out as a hideous grunt. This was one of Kayla’s favorite tricks to get Sarah to smile, and, inevitably, it worked.
“Don’t expect me to be happy about this.” The corner of Sarah’s mouth turned up against her will and Kayla knew she’d won.
“Oh, I know, it’s so tragic, but you only turn fake twenty-one once, so let’s enjoy it while it lasts!” Sarah pushed herself off of the couch and walked to her room. Kayla listened intently for Sarah’s subtle grumbling that could only mean she’d seen the dress Kayla layed out for her. She knew the stuttered angry grunts from living with her for so long: Sarah didn’t want to admit that Kayla was right.
*
A daiquiri, two LITs, and something called a blue bomber was what it took for Sarah to admit she was having a good time. Of course, this was by Kayla’s own diabolical design—this was Sarah’s first time ever drinking and she’d planned the drink menu meticulously to make sure Sarah would enjoy herself without getting too blasted. In the past when they’d gone out, those very few times when she could pry her out of the house, menfolk would offer Sarah drinks and she would always decline them, setting Kayla up to take the drink in her stead. This worked out wonderfully to Kayla’s advantage; if Sarah wasn’t drinking then she didn’t need to worry about driving home and if Kayla wasn’t buying then it didn’t matter that she was underage. Now, it embarrassed Kayla a little, going drink for drink with Sarah and finding that three years of experience built a strong tolerance. She could just barely feel a buzz while Sarah struggled to keep her balance.
“Thanks for dragging me out, Kayla,” Sarah laughed. Her eyes were closing and her mouth was permanently curled into a lulling smile.
“And you were so determined to hate it!” Kayla smiled and brought Sarah to the floor and for the next few minutes, they were light on their feet, bouncing with the music and letting themselves melt. It occurred to Kayla that she’d never seen Sarah dance and was surprised to find she was rather good at it. Loose, but keeping time. She didn’t look awkward in her body the way some people did when they tried to dance, there wasn’t a self conscious thought in her head. But then again, why should Kayla be surprised. Little miss perfect. She grabbed Sarah’s hips and brought her close, making eye contact with an encroaching frat boy as she did. Back off, she smiled, this one’s mine.
Sarah leaned in, draping her arms around Kayla’s shoulders and, for a moment, everything froze. Oh, Kayla thought, and sat with the thought. Then Sarah’s slurred voice pierced the speakers next to Kayla’s ear, asking, “Why’s the line so long for the bathroom?”
Kayla peered over and made a quick assessment. “They’re doing coke. Why, you want some?”
Sarah recoiled, disgusted. “From the bathroom? Gross, the bar’s right there!”
“Not that kind of—nevermind. How are you doing? You ready to head back?”
“Are you crazy? We can do things forever now!” Sarah gave her smile, a full grin that showed off her white, perfectly straight teeth. Her eyes squinted into a narrow shape where the blue just barely leaked through. Like a painting, Kayla thought, admiring her work. Sarah’s dress, borrowed from Kayla, hung on her perfectly and the braid in her hair never frayed or loosened. Their fingers laced together as they stepped apart and pulled each other back and Kayla realized she’d never been more proud, as perverse as that should have felt, though maybe that made it better. “Wait,” Sarah said after a moment, letting her face drop, her eyes open, her expression change from unfettered joy to some kind of climactic realization. “Yup, I’m sleepy, let’s go home.”
Kayla cracked a smile, grabbed Sarah by the arm and led her, stumbling, out of the club. When they spilled on the sidewalk, Sarah was still shouting and Kayla was sure, with the ringing of the speakers and the fresh midnight air, that she was dead sober in all of this. She figured it was probably karma for all the times Sarah had to come pick her up in the middle of the night. “Thanks so much. Really, this was great,” Sarah spouted, eyes barely open.
“Yeah, you know it, girlie.” Kayla draped Sarah’s arm around her shoulder to keep her stable as they walked toward the car.
“You lied to me though, ya liar.” Sarah blurted, smiling and laughing.
“How so? I mean, almost certainly that’s true, but about what specifically?” Kayla would have felt bad, but nothing she said really mattered, Sarah wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.
“You said that guys would be slobbering all over me tonight and they weren’t. That makes you a liar.”
“A guy offered to buy you a drink, complemented your dress—you’re welcome, by the way—then danced behind you for two minutes until you wandered off without talking to him. He was doing his job, you’re just really bad at flirting.”
“Pfft,” she said, then repeated, fascinated by the movement of her lips. “Am I dumb?”
“Not dumb, just innocent and oblivious and pretty. You’re like a movie princess or something.”
Sarah’s eyes got wide and her smile shrunk to nothing. She stood a little straighter, though she still stumbled; Kayla knew her mind was trying to sober, but her body wasn’t capable of it. “Don’t say that,” Sarah finally let out through a dry throat and much effort.
“Say what?”
“That word, that—just don’t, okay?”
“What word? Princess?” Sarah elbowed Kayla in the ribs and Kayla dropped Sarah’s arm, shouting “Bitch!” Sarah fell to the ground and, when she had difficulty getting up, decided propping herself up on her arm was just as good as standing. Kayla, without any help from Sarah and grumbling curses through grit teeth, lifted the drunken mess off the ground and carried her to the car. As Kayla drove home, Sarah started talking to talk, the way the inebriated do.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, you didn’t deserve that. I just really don’t like that word, you know? It’s like getting—getting tazed or something, like you’re getting a shock right to your insides. It’s like Pavlovian or something.”
“That’s not a word.” Kayla said, unamused.
“It’s a thingy. What you call people.”
“A name?”
“Boom!” Sarah said, pointing at Kayla’s face.
“You can remember Pavlovian, but not the word name?”
Sarah shrugged. “Stuff’s weird. Hey Kayla?”
“Yes?”
“Haven’t we seen that guy before?” Kayla caught sight of him before they passed him, shuffling on the sidewalk.
“Yeah, I think he comes to the restaurant every now and then.”
“He was on the train.”
“When did you get on a train?”
“The train, Sarah, remember?” Kayla furrowed her brow and thought back. He did look familiar, but there was no way he could be in all those places at once. Kayla tried to dismiss the idea of it, even this felt farfetched to her. “Kayla, Since we’re being honest—”
“I wasn’t talking, but okay.”
“The guy that was dancing near me smelled like cheesy butt.”
Kayla smiled, “They all smell like cheesy butt.”
“Am I broken?” Sarah asked.
“You’re drunk.”
“I know that, but I don’t…The way they look at me, I can tell they want something and I don’t want anything from them. Is that weird?”
“Do you mean sex?” Kayla didn’t have the attention span to beat around the bush and drive at the same time, so she said what came to mind without thinking too hard about it. “Like, they want sex from you and you don’t want that from them?”
Sarah paused. “Possibly.”
“Well, either way, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It feels good for five seconds, then it’s over.”
Sarah put her hands on the middle console and lurched toward Kayla. “I didn’t know you did that.”
“It wasn’t a secret, Sarah.”
“Who with? What was it like?”
Kayla took her eyes off the road for a second to glare, but realized quickly it wouldn’t deter Sarah from pressing. “We don’t talk about the past Sarah, you know that.”
Sarah leaned back in her seat and listened to the road for a moment. “Dad used to call me his princess.”
Kayla lurched to pull the car over. This was wrong, but when would she ever have the opportunity again? “And you don’t like being called that anymore?”
“No. It feels like going down stairs in the dark.” Sarah’s eyes were glassy.
Kayla wrapped her hand around Sarah’s and held her gaze as best she could. It was right there, she knew. “What’s downstairs?”
“The basement. Dad’s basement. I’m not allowed down there. Ever.”
“But you went anyway?”
Sarah nodded.
“What was down there?”
Sarah opened her mouth, then stopped. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t seem to notice. Then she shook her head slowly and said, “Mom knew the whole time.”
*
It was the ringing in her ears that first made Sarah aware of how terrible a mistake the night before really was. Then, when she tried to stretch, her stomach snapped shut like a trap and she had to fight the urge to puke. As she tried to lift her head, her spine stiffened and her nostrils ached as if her brain wanted to stay exactly where it was and never move again. Her eyelids stuck together and eventually came open, then shut promptly when the light from the window spilled in on her barely functioning pupils. “Never again,” Sarah croaked through a dry throat. She was still tired, but couldn’t go back to sleep. When she found the strength to look at the alarm clock, she found it was only seven in the morning; they must have only been in for a few hours before she woke up.
As Sarah laid in bed, totally immobilized, more of the world started to form around her. Faintly, from the kitchen, she could hear a humming that only grew more full and lively in her ears. She could very nearly recognize the song, but her head was pounding and she couldn’t quite piece together all the little bits of it. Kayla came in with a glass of water and a bowl of scrambled eggs. “You’re dehydrated,” she said, “that’s essentially all a hangover is. Drink up. The eggs’ll help your stomach once you can prop yourself up to eat them.”
“Last night was a terrible idea,” Sarah said through cracked lips.
“Yeah, you’re telling me. What do you remember?”
Sarah groaned, then finally said, “Something about a really loud club and some dudes with bad cologne. I’m pretty sure that one song came on.”
“What song?”
“The one that goes ‘wub wub wub.’”
“You mean all of them?”
Sarah smiled, “Yeah, that’s the one.” Kayla wasn’t smiling, but instead grabbed Sarah’s hand and squeezed for a second. “Ugh, you stink. Have you been smoking again?”
Kayla didn’t answer. “Sarah, everything’s fine. Everything’s going to be alright.”
“I don’t believe you,” Sarah said, feeling a twinge in her head.
“You will.” Kayla walked out of the room and let Sarah recuperate.
This story is considered a work in progress for legal reasons.
© 2024 Wells Thompson
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.