CHINA
“What’s your problem with me letting off a bit of steam? I didn’t hurt anyone, and I’m not doing it in the public eye. Your precious Crown reputation isn’t tarnished.” I hate these arguments, as she really only has them for her own benefit.
“China Marie Crown, I’ve had enough of your self-centered, self-absorbed style.” Saying it with a calm and almost indifferent voice, I know she really won’t rail at me. The last thing she’ll want to do is cause wrinkles and undue stress on her skin, so the consistent soft sound is more threatening than if she yelled.
To others, Marca Crown is the picture of perfection. Her adoration of her family is noble. To Wyatt, Jamieson, and myself, we see the other side of the coin. We see the real Marca.
“The person you are reflects upon your race team, both of your brother’s teams, and of course, us as a family. All I ask is that you stop this foolishness. You will be the head of a very important project, China, and you can’t be seen as a thug.”
“I think that’s a far stretch of the imagination, Mother. I’m a motocross racer, not a hooligan.”
“Well, then start acting like a lady and less like an ungrateful piece of gutter trash. I’ve worked very hard to turn you into a debutant that any respectable man would love to have on his arm, yet you consistently wear boyish attire and swear like a twenties sailor. How will you ever find someone to marry? You truly disappoint me, China.”
“Wow, why don’t you tell me how you really feel.” Rounding the counter to grab a few apple slices, I try to ignore the elephant in the room that she rides upon. I’m never going to be good enough for her.
Sitting up quickly, shocked out of my past, I feel the dampness of my history drowning me.
Why does this keep happening to me? Why can’t I rise above it all?
Remembering what happened yesterday, my faults become clear. What a horrible fucking nightmare. Truly, why can’t I catch a moment’s peace?
Lying in bed, looking at the clock flashing the time on the ceiling, I try my damnedest to forget. The clock says it’s ten am, and I’d love nothing more than to curl up and have a Groundhog Day reoccurrence. But as the sun streams through the windows, casting beams of light and dust motes throughout the room, it gives it all an ethereal feel, leaving me both relieved and anxious. Maybe I’m still lying on that damn ugly bathroom floor? Maybe I was sentenced while unconscious? I’ll wake finding my new roommate, Doris, hanging her daughter’s pictures in the cell, using my cut off hair and bubblegum. Screw it. If that’s the truth, then I’ll just stay here a few more minutes and enjoy the quiet. If this is just an apparition of my mind, then I’ll take it over the truth too.
Curling further into the down coverlet, laying my head on the pillow, I watch as a songbird stands on the edge of my balcony. Is it crying? No, it’s singing happily. Glad one of us is. The day is bright in its little world because there’s nothing for it to be afraid of. I doubt birds have a newspaper that writes scathing editorials about someone, causing them to collapse. To think, Wyatt and Jamieson still haven’t had their moment to fry me; scolding me like only big brothers turned parents can.
On the nightstand, my phone sits patiently, waiting me. Flashing with various messages, I look through them. With twelve from Wyatt, six from Jamieson, and one from Circe, I decide to call her first. She’s my best shot at calming my brother. Hopefully, both of them. Dialling her, I wait.
“Oh, thank God, sweetie. I was worried sick.” What I would’ve paid to have my mother say that just once.
“Hey, Circe. Yeah, it’s me.” My voice is deeper than usual. It’s as if I’d drank sand.
“Shit, you sound horrible. I heard what happened and I’m so glad you’re all right. Wyatt was worried. I had to threaten pain to keep him in bed.”
She smiled. “How is Cas today?”
“Fine, fine. Don’t worry about him. Ouch, Wyatt, you’ll get your turn to speak to your sister. It’s my turn. Be patient.” Wyatt was always the dark brother, but she’s the light in his life. She’s making him better in so many ways.
The day of the accident, Wyatt and Mother were collecting Circe from the airport. It was an unusual occasion where they were getting along. With no arguing, no sidelong glances or cutting words, Casper explained it as a perfect day. That was before they crashed on the highway coming home. Mom died instantly, while Wyatt and Circe were lucky to have lived. Casper may never ride professionally again, but he’s better and he’s here. I’ll take that any day. His illness will still need assistance, and even though I miss her, my Mother is who made him that way.
“How’d it go yesterday? The papers were very vague, saying the charges were dropped.”
They were? Awesome. Everyone on the planet knows more than I do. I’d take vague over nothing.
“Circe, I’ll catch you up to speed on it later, yeah? I just wanted to call in and see how you and Casper were. Is he still fighting with Crane?” Crane is Circe’s physical therapist, who will hopefully become her mom’s new beau. The man is stunningly beautiful, and charming. Did I mention hot?
“Well, you know your brother. If Wyatt can’t argue his way out of something then it wasn’t a full day. No, Wyatt, you can’t have your turn yet—” The phone scrambles around as Circe laughs. I can envision them wrestling the absconded phone each one-handed. Both of them with their broken arms, flailing around as he tries to win. Always trying to win.
“Hey, Doll.”
“Hey. How’s it going, Ghostman?”
“Not bad. I worked on my grip today. Held a loose throttle, but I still couldn’t turn it. Fucking wrist. Anyway, how’d it go?”
How to answer that. “Truth is, I’m really not sure, Cas. You saw the paper yesterday, right?”
“Yeah. What fucking bullshit.” He pauses. “I’ll swear if I damn well want to, lady, now shush. You had your turn.” I know he’s smiling; I can hear it in his voice. And I wanted to keep Circe away? What was I thinking.
“Catty brought the paper into the courthouse. I saw it, read it, and I ran to the bathroom to throw up. The last thing I remember is crying like a freakin’ baby on the floor, and now. I have no recollection of anything more, Cas. Did the papers say anything this morning?”
“Not really. It just said that the majority of the charges were dropped or sidelined. I guess Merconda did her thing.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Did it say if any stuck?”
“No, just that you were under probationary conditions, and that jail time was commuted unless you fucked-up. You’re not going to, are you, Doll?” His serious voice is out. Great, big brother / Dad is back.
“No. I have no intention of wearing a jumpsuit, Cas.” Shuffling around the bed a bit, I feel something cool and heavy on my leg. Reaching down, I know why they said probationary conditions. There’s a fucking monitor strapped to my ankle! “Fuck.”
“What? What’s wrong, Doll?”
As concern laces his words, I try to deflect. “Nothing…nothing at all. I just stubbed my toe on the bed bannister. Listen, I’m gonna get up. I’ll find out more and I’ll call you, yeah?” Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.
“You sure? It sounded a bit more than that. Don’t lie to me, China Doll.” Damn, he knows me too well.
“No, really, it’s good.” I try to sound light and airy again. “I’ll call you later. Love you. Give Circe a smooch for me, and tell Jamieson he’s a prick.”
“Yeah, got it. Love you, Doll.” His words are questioning and worrisome, but he’s stuck in a hospital so I can handle his query from a distance.
Avoidance is key. “Love you too, Casper.”
Hanging up, I stuff my phone between the pillows and flip back the covers. I’m wearing a fucking monitor. It’s bright red, with a black two inch by two inch flashing beacon of incarceration.
“God dammit.”
My attire is the same from yesterday’s fiasco. I’m back to the comfy pants and ratty tank tops I love to relax in. Well, if it’s going to be a redo, I might as well retake the same steps as before. Maybe, just maybe, the day will be progressively better.
Stepping into my bathroom, running the water for a shower, I stare at the mirror. All the puffiness and grime coagulates. “This shit is getting fucking old.” But hopefully, not worse.
Stripping down and climbing into the expansive shower, I let the water trail down from the multi-headed rainhead. I want to wash it all away: the pain, the grief, the sadness, the lonely feelings. I want...
I want to not be
alone in this anymore.