The rowdy ones, p.4
The Rowdy Ones, page 4
“Conversation and coffee just go so well together,” Gwen explains as the coffee starts to brew. “Trust me.”
I inhale the delightful scent. She hasn’t given me any reason not to trust her thus far. In fact, I really, really like her. While coming out here was terrifying and intimidating, it’s also kind of exciting.
“How’s the new phone? I see you got a pretty purple jeweled case for it. Great idea for not mixing it up with someone else’s phone.”
I run my thumb over the back of the phone, feeling each smooth bump. Purple. I wish I could remember what it looked like. “Kind of pointless to have one since I can’t see it.”
The tabletop in front of me clinks as she sets the coffee down for me. I know it’s the coffee because it smells even stronger now.
“I set it directly in front of you about six inches from the edge,” she explains. “The handle is on your right side. Be careful because it’s steaming hot.”
Her directions are nice and I’m easily able to find the mug. It’s hot as promised, but I like feeling it on the palm of my hand after having just been outside in the freezing weather. I bring it close to my face and sniff. Smells pretty good actually. Carefully, I sip from the mug, expecting a blast of bitterness, but am pleasantly surprised when it tastes buttery and rich and sweet.
“Oh,” I murmur. “Wow.”
“Right?” She laughs and then I hear another clink. “I’m in love. Even my son loves it and he hates anything good.”
I smile at her words. “You have a lot of kids?”
“Only Weston. He started college this past fall.”
The pride in her voice warms my heart.
“Can I see your phone?” Gwen asks. “There are settings to help you. I’d like to activate them for you.”
While still holding the hot mug, I grab the phone and reach toward the sound of her voice. She takes it from me and studies it quietly for a moment.
“Currently, the feature to unlock it is using your face. Unfortunately, anyone could snatch it, hold it up in front of you, and unlock it. I’d like to put a voice activated unlocking feature on it. Is that okay with you?”
We spend the next half hour or so going through all the parts of the phone she thinks are useful to me and activating the accessibility for visually impaired people like myself. By the end of it, I am able to unlock the phone with my code, “toffee,” access the internet by voice, send texts verbally, and have my phone read me any page or app I navigate to. I’m excited to actually be able to use it.
“I’ve plugged my phone number in here,” Gwen says as she slides the phone back over to me. “You’re more than welcome to call or text me any hour of any day.”
“Thank you. This means a lot to me.”
I’m not sure what it costs to have someone like Gwen working with you, but I’m thankful money never seems to be a problem with our family. I’ve overheard Uncle Atticus and Dad talking before about stock performance and interest rates. Apparently, Dad did well as a young man and invested in high-earning accounts that we’re able to live on. Uncle Atticus keeps an eye on it all since he has access to the internet.
“So today I wanted to just go over a schedule. I worked late last night getting all this information together. After our meeting today, I’ll let you get tested to assess your disability level so we can assign the proper program for you. However, despite the level of vision impairment you actually have, the programs run very similar for everyone.” Papers rustle and then she taps the page. “Okay, so I’d like for you to use your phone and add these items into the calendar for next week. It’ll be good practice for you.”
Though it’s a bit stressful for me, Gwen walks me through adding my “orientation and mobility” therapy on Mondays. We’ll learn how to use what she calls a “white cane,” something called echolocation basics, terrain awareness, and other mobile practices like walking routes and navigating stairs. Tuesday, we do tech training. It’s more of what we learned today using devices and my phone. Wednesday sounds kind of boring but necessary. We’ll cook, do laundry, organize for systems that work for us, and lots of labeling. I’m already kind of used to this with all the extensive chores I was expected to do at home. Thursday is when I’ll learn Braille and how to use other low vision tools like magnifiers or contrast overlays. Since my vision is so dark and nearly gone, I don’t think the tools are going to work for me, but I don’t mention it to her. It’ll be nice to read a book without having one of my siblings or Mom read it to me. Finally, on Friday, we’ll do a “teen circle” and share our fears and grief as we adjust to our vision loss. It’s more or less a support group. I’m eager to make friends but nervous to talk about deeper stuff.
“Now that we’ve handled that,” Gwen says, voice cheery, “I want to take you to our onsite cafeteria. They have the best enchiladas and that’s what’s on the menu for today. I’ll show you around so you can navigate the space freely and on your own.”
I’m already feeling more independent and empowered than when I woke up this morning.
This is going to be amazing.
Retinitis Pigmentosa. Or RP if it’s too much of a mouthful to say. It’s strange to finally have a name for my condition. After speaking with the doctor about it, I excused myself to the restroom and used my phone to research the internet about it. I also needed a minute to process the news.
It’s a progressive genetic disorder, which means gradual vision loss over time. Makes sense as to why I could see colors and shapes as a small child, but it eventually turned into mostly blurs of shapes and inability to tell dark from light. Now it’s dark mostly all the time, and from what I’m learning, it’s not going to get any better. The thing that struck me the most was that stress can cause the condition to progress more rapidly, which explains why it worsened so quickly after Jace and that whole nightmare.
My future is complete blindness.
Despite knowing in my heart that was the outlook, it still hurts me. I guess I can tell the other patients all about it during “teen circle.” It’s slightly comforting to know others are like me that I can connect with. At least they’ll understand the frustrations of it. Learning these skills for my independence are more important than ever.
When I exit the bathroom, Gwen is waiting for me. I smell her before I sense her. She pulls me to her for a hug, and a dam breaks inside of me. I burst into tears and allow my new ally to hold me. Eventually, after she hands me a wad of tissues, I dry my eyes and put myself back together.
“Come on,” Gwen says, voice tender. “Let’s grab some more coffee while you wait for your ride.”
As soon as we enter her office, I smell something other than her floral perfume or the toffee coffee. It’s masculine. A cologne, but not as intense as Wild’s. It’s actually pleasant.
“Weston,” Gwen cries out. “What a surprise!”
A deep voice chuckles and I imagine they’re hugging. I can’t help but smile over at them.
“Damn, Mom. You didn’t tell me your patients were so hot. I’d come visit more often.”
My cheeks burn and I shift awkwardly on my feet.
“Oh, stop. Don’t be a menace,” she says to him. “This is Destiny. Destiny, this is my son, Weston.”
The smell grows stronger and my skin prickles with awareness. I’m sensing he’s close, towering over me much like my brothers do.
“Nice to meet you,” Weston murmurs, voice closer than I expect. “Have you been crying?”
I lift my hand, wondering if he’s trying to shake mine. A massive, warm hand envelops mine and he gives it a friendly squeeze. “Just found out I can’t see.”
He snorts out a laugh. “Like just now? What a surprise.”
A small giggle escapes me. “I had no idea. I’m so bummed now.”
“Mom, learn to warm a lady up first before you drop bad news on her. Sheesh.”
Gwen chuckles at our exchange. I realize I’m still holding Weston’s hand. With more heat flooding my cheeks, I tug my hand free and stuff it in my jeans’ pocket.
“Destiny’s waiting on her ride, but I thought we could have coffee first. Want some, honey?”
Weston makes a gagging sound. “Pass. Got a Coke instead?”
As Gwen busies herself, I carefully step toward where I remember the seating area to be. My shin bumps the coffee table, letting me know I’m close. I shimmy around it and sit on the sofa. Then Weston plops down beside me. He’s a big guy, much bigger than me, and I nearly collapse into him since he’s so close and weighing the cushion down.
“Sorry,” I choke out, scooting a bit farther away.
“I’m not.”
The flirty tone in his voice sends butterflies dancing in my belly. He doesn’t give off terrible vibes like Jace did. Plus, he’s Gwen’s son. I bet he’s a great person. As terrifying as it is, I make a vow to myself that I’ll give these people a fair shot to be my friends. I’m tired of letting my fear control me.
“This looks painful,” Weston says, gently touching my wrist and turning it upward. “Get in a fight while chopping veggies?”
I appreciate him making light of it.
“Something like that.”
“Put my number in your phone,” he says softly. “Maybe you can tell me about it sometime.”
I think I’d like that.
* * *
* * *
Where is she?
It’s already ten past four and Destiny hasn’t come out. I’m tempted to go on a hunt for her.
And embarrass her?
I scrub my palm over my face and force myself to breathe. This morning, when we took her to see Gwen, she’d looked so determined. Dare I say excited? I’ll be damned if I’m the one who takes that away from her.
Destiny deserves something good in life. Something that’s all hers. She’s had shit thrown at her for a while now. I want her to be happy.
At least I was able to come pick her up alone. I don’t have a license or any sort of identification for that matter, but I do know the chief of police, Will Knox. If I get pulled over, I’ll have Uncle Atticus call his brother Will and get me off the hook.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel and glare at the front doors, willing Destiny to appear. Still nothing. Annoying. My phone buzzes, distracting me.
Wild: Do you have anything nice to wear? I mean, the whole lumberjack vibe will be someone’s yum, but I have a reputation to uphold. If not, borrow something of mine.
Glancing down at my red-and-black flannel under my coat, I frown. I was just going to wear what I’m wearing. Regular clothes. Having to be something I’m not has a spike of anxiety shooting through me.
Evan never cared about what you wore…
Don’t think about him.
Don’t fucking do it.
My mind wanders to a time when he ripped at my shirt so hard, buttons flew everywhere. We’d both laughed through our kiss that quickly turned to moans.
And now my dick is hard.
For fuck’s sake.
Why did he have to mess everything up? We might’ve actually had something good, but then he got drugs involved, and everything unraveled from there.
Movement catches my eye and I snap my head up. Three people exit the building. The wind sweeps up familiar blond hair, dancing off to the side like it’s able to guide the girl it’s attached to somewhere else. The others beside Destiny are Gwen and a man I don’t recognize.
I’m out of the truck in half a second, eager to get over to her.
As I stalk toward them, Gwen gives me a forced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. The guy next to them narrows his eyes at me, stiffening. And then, like I’m a threat, he steps in front of my sister to protect her.
My sister.
Mine.
Not his.
“Dez,” I growl, letting her know I’m here for her. “What took so long?”
Gwen’s lips thin into a line. The guy scowls at me. Great. They hate me. I don’t give a fuck.
Destiny cocks her head slightly to the side. “Rowdy! I learned how to use my phone today. I can text and—”
“Aunt Eve was cooking when I left. It’s probably done now,” I grind out, eyes boring into the guy who’s standing too close to my sister. “Let’s go.”
Destiny’s excitement fades and she visibly shuts down. I feel like an absolute monster, but right now, I just want to get her away from these people. They make me nervous.
“Weston,” the guy says, voice sharp like a blade. “You must be the brother she spoke about. I’m Gwen’s son.”
Even more reason to hate him.
I don’t take his offered hand, instead, eyeing it like it’s diseased. He makes a chuffing sound and then drops his arm.
“Okaaaay,” Weston mumbles. Then, completely ignoring me, he turns to Destiny and dials up the charm. “Call me later, chef.”
Chef?
What the fuck does that mean?
She giggles at what clearly is an inside joke, and my insides boil. Without thinking, I take hold of her arm. The injured one. Fuck. She cries out in pain, instantly making me feel diabolical.
“Oh, fuck, Dez,” I hiss. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Tears well in her eyes and her cheeks are red. From pain or humiliation, I’m not sure. Regardless, I’ve done this to her.
Gwen glowers at me and Weston’s nostrils flare. They seriously can’t stand me. Feeling’s mutual.
“It’s fine,” Destiny bites out, voice wobbling. “Thanks, Gwen. Nice meeting you, Weston.”
This time, I offer her my arm. She grabs hold of it and starts walking away from them. I have to guide her toward where the truck is parked since she has no idea where she’s going. When we reach the truck and I open her door for her, she wrenches her arm away from me.
“I can do it myself. Thank you.”
The iciness in her words chills me to the bone. I’m ruining this for her. Disgust at myself creeps through me. It feels much like it did when I woke up in the hospital after nearly dying. Screwup. That’s all I am.
I take my time walking over to my side of the truck and make the mistake of looking over at Weston and Gwen. They’re standing close, staring at us, neither of them looking very happy. I’m tempted to flip Weston off but refrain for Destiny’s sake.
As soon as the door closes and I start the vehicle, Destiny lays into me.
“That was rude,” she bites out.
I stiffen at her words. “I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean to grab your injured arm.”
“Not that.” She snaps her head in my direction. “How you treated the three of us just then. Like we were doing something wrong and you had to save me from it.”
Clenching my teeth together, I hold back what I really think about Weston and Gwen. There’s no sense in upsetting Destiny even more.
“Maybe you should go back home,” she says coolly. “I can do this myself.”
Fucking ouch.
The next time she speaks, it’s to her phone, instructing it to play music. Classical music blasts from the device in her hand, effectively ending the conversation.
She’s right. I should go home. At least then I could relax.
Liar.
You never relax. Your demons follow you everywhere. Here, though, at least you can watch over Destiny.
“Talia’s mom went to San Francisco for business, so she invited a bunch of people over. They have a kick-ass loft.”
My shoulders are tense as I sit in the passenger seat of Wild’s truck. Destiny hasn’t spoken to me since yelling at me in the car earlier today. Once the original anger dissipated, I felt like a shit brother. I just want to make things right between us but can’t figure out how to do that.
Alcohol will help take my mind off things.
We park in a parking garage in a fancy area of town. I remember when they were building these units. Evan and I would discuss the progression and how badass it would be to live someplace like that rather than our dinky apartment. And now I’m here.
Wild climbs out of the truck and saunters over to the elevator. I follow after him, feeling uncomfortable as fuck in a pair of his dark jeans and a black button-up shirt. I’m even wearing one of his coats that reeks of his cologne. This isn’t me and I hate it.
But I need some sort of outlet.
Going stir-crazy in that RV is getting old.
On the fifth floor, we exit into a sleek hallway and Wild makes his way to one of the units. He raps on the door. Seconds later, the redhead with the fat lips answers.
“Oh, handsome, so happy you came!” She flings herself into Wild’s arms and hugs his neck. “And who’s this fella?”
I offer her my hand, but she hugs me next. Her tits are huge and smash against my chest. It wakes my cock up. Wonderful.
Thankfully, she extracts herself from me and waves us inside. Music with a deep baseline plays from a speaker in the living room. About twenty or thirty people mill about, all dressed nicely with cocktails or beers in hand. Several people blatantly gawk at me, which makes me feel stupid and out of place.
Wild, of course, knows everyone. He drags me around from person to person, introducing me to people I’ll never remember the names of. What he’s good at, though, is keeping my drink refilled so that the liquor can do its job to relax me. By the time we’ve been here an hour, I’m loose and even smiling, which warms a few people up to me.
“It’s so cool you live out there,” a blonde, no taller than Destiny, says and flashes me a pearly white grin. “We went camping once and my mom cried the first night. Made Dad pack us up and leave right then. We’re so not outdoorsy.”
We all chuckle at the visual. The guy next to her is tall and stands close as if he’s staking his claim. I can’t even remember her name, so he doesn’t have to worry about me stealing her away.
“I do some mountain climbing,” the tall guy says. “You should come with us sometime.”
He’s speaking to me.
