CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

BROOK

Listening to the lawyer drone on and on is giving me a headache. I’m not paying attention to anything he’s saying. I’m still trying to get over my parents dying in a car wreck. Aunt Karen, my mother’s sister, and her husband, John, are sitting next to me. I don’t know why they’re here for the reading. Mom and Karen didn’t get along. Can’t recall the last time I’d seen her.

My parents were both doctors at Fort Sanders Regional Medical Center in Knoxville, TN. Being an only child, I assumed I would inherit everything. In fact, they had told me as much. But I guess things can change.

I pay attention when the lawyer announces Aunt Karen is one hundred percent in charge of my parents’ estate. That can’t be right.

“What do you mean, in charge?” I spring from my chair.

The lawyer holds up a document. “Your parents left them in charge indefinitely.” He nods his head at my aunt and uncle. “They can do whatever they feel is best. With everything.”

What?

I glance at my relatives and I can’t keep from shaking my head. “Did you know about this?”

My aunt stares. “Your mother didn’t believe you were ready to take care of yourself.”

“I’m twenty-one, for Chrissake.”

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t second-guess my sister’s wishes. God rest her soul.”

“I need to pay for another semester of college so I can graduate.” My shoulders tighten. I’m afraid I know what she’s going to say.

“I’m sorry, dear, we can’t be spending any more money on your frivolous art degree.” She seems to be enjoying this. “I’m also afraid we’ll be selling the house. We’ll need you to move out right away.”

“But . . .”

“I think we’re done here.” Karen stands and my uncle follows suit. “Thank you,” she says to the lawyer and shakes his hand. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“Once again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” She heads for the door.

“You can’t sell the house, Aunt Karen.” I look at the lawyer for help. He’s fiddling with paperwork. “Karen?”

She pauses at the door and glances at me. “You better pack your things.”

My knees wobble when she leaves. My heart is heavy. I’m having trouble processing what has just taken place. I slump into a chair.

“Can Karen really sell the house?” I ask the lawyer.

“She can do whatever she likes.” He taps some documents. “Says it right here.”

“Can I see?” I hold out my hand.

He covers the papers with his hands. “I’m afraid not. But I’ll send a copy if you leave an address.”

I make a fist. And I’m not the violent type. “Leave an address? How can I? Karen . . .” I’ll never refer to her as Aunt Karen again. “ She’s selling the house and I have nowhere to go.”

He shrugs and pushes out of his chair. “I’m expecting another client so you’ll have to leave.”

“You can’t do this to me.”

“I’m just fulfilling your parents’ wishes.”

I hold my hand out. “Can I see the will, please?”

“I’ve already told you no. I’ll send a copy.”

“I don’t think this is right. You’re supposed to show it to me if I ask. It’s the law.” I’m making things up now. Have to try something.

“I’m not obligated to show you anything.” His voice was rising and his face was flushing. “I worked for your parents and now I work for your aunt.” He stomps toward the door and opens it.

I stay where I am.

“Don’t make me throw you out.”

I think it over, then march to where he stands. Get in his space. And then walk out the door.

Things are spiraling.

* * *

I make it to my car before I start bawling. The tears spill out until there aren’t any left. My world has fallen apart in less than a week.

I gather myself together and drive home.

The front door to the house is open when I careen into the driveway. Workers are loading furniture into a moving truck.

I hit the brakes, jam the car into park, and fly out the door. “What’s going on here?”

The movers say nothing, and I sprint to the house. My suitcases are sitting inside the doorway.

“What the hell is going on?” I scream.

Nobody answers.

It’s the twilight zone.

Karen hollers from the top of the stairs, “I packed your clothes and they’re in those suitcases. Didn’t want them getting thrown out with the trash.” She emphasizes and drags out the word trash. Is she insinuating something? “I don’t want any problems,” she continues. “But if you don’t leave, I’ll call the cops.”

My jaw slackens. “This is my home.” A mover carrying a painting pushes by me. “Where are you taking all of our things?”

“They’re my things now, and I’m selling them, so get out.” Karen spins on her heel and tromps off.

I linger before picking up my bags and leaving the house. I heave the suitcases into the backseat of my car, then get in and sit behind the wheel.

What am I going to do?

I loiter in the driveway, pondering my next move, and Karen steps out the door, hands on her hips. I glare at her, and she smiles at me and goes back inside.

Five minutes pass and I think of Jenny, the one friend I stay in semi-contact with. The only problem is that she lives in New Orleans. Not a problem, though, if I think of the alternative—a cardboard box in an alley somewhere. So I call her. She’ll be happy to let me stay with her. I put the car in drive and head south with very little money in my checking account.

* * *

Jenny’s place is a dump, but at least it’s a roof over my head. She doesn’t seem to believe in cleaning or doing laundry. Since I’m staying here for free at the moment, I put on a pair of rubber gloves and give the apartment a good scrubbing down. Get caught up on the laundry. Never got a thanks, but that’s okay.

A couple of days pass and I have to find some work. Thankfully, jobs are plentiful. I don’t have much experience, so the best I can do is a waitressing job. And it’s not that bad.

I’m gone a lot for work so I don’t see Jenny much. She’s a hostess in the evenings at the Olive Garden and is a part-time college student. Her boyfriend likes to hang out at our apartment. His name is Chad and he gives me the creeps. Stares at me a lot when Jenny isn’t looking.

We live in a one bedroom, so I sleep on the couch. I’m not used to standing all day, and I’ve been putting in overtime at the diner. Today was an exceptionally long day, and when I get home, I crash without taking off my clothes. I wake up the next morning with someone on top of me. Chad is unbuttoning my shirt. I scream for him to get off.

Jenny races from her bedroom. “What’s going on?”

I scramble to get away from Chad. “He was on top of me.”

He shakes his head and scrunches his shoulders. “She’s been flirting with me, baby. I didn’t want to, but she was asking for it.”

He even said it with a straight face.

Liar!

Jenny’s glaring at me.

“I don’t want him, Jenny. He’s a sleazeball.”

“I let you stay here and you try to steal my boyfriend?” She jerks her thumb toward the door. “Get out!”

“I would never do that to you, Jenny.”

She purses her lips. “I want you gone.” She goes back to her bedroom.

Chad seems to be unbothered by the ordeal.

I quickly grab my stuff and load up my suitcases. I’m almost to the door when Chad steps in front of me.

“Bet I could talk her into letting you stay if you were nicer to me.” He looks me over and places a hand on my hip.

I smile at him because I have something in mind.

He says, “You like that.”

I say, “Do you like this?” And I knee him in the crotch as hard as I can.

It must have been a direct hit because he bends over and heaves.

I say to him, “You have a nice day, Chad.” And then I leave the apartment.

* * *

I show up early for work so I can clean myself up. Looks like I’ll be staying at a cheap motel or in my car.

I’m tired and cranky, and everything’s going wrong. So when I reach the end of my shift after a continuous barrage of harassment from some dipstick, I come unglued and pour a pitcher of ice water in his lap.

I knew it was a mistake and they fired me shortly thereafter. I left the building crying.

The downward spiral continues.