I laughed. That still sounded like Nirvana to me.
I gave up trying to talk sense into her, and we went on to the topic of her sister’s new baby.
Chapter 8
Debbie
The next morning, I awoke with a start in the dark. I squinted at the clock on my nightstand. Four thirty in the morning was the bad news.
I used the pillowcase to wipe the sweat from my face. Lying back down, I focused on taking deep breaths to calm my racing heart.
After going a few months without them, I’d thought I might be finally getting past the nightmares, but no such luck. This one was back with a vengeance.
The scary roar of the water always woke me. It was my earliest childhood memory, and not a good one. They say strong emotions cement memories, and that was true of this one. I’d never been as afraid as I was that afternoon. Drowning in the angry, brown rush of a flash flood would have been a terrible way to go.
As a child, I’d had no concept of a flash flood, and now it was a sound I would never forget.
Josh had saved me by pushing me up the embankment, out of reach of the rushing water. To long-ago, scared little me, he’d been braver and stronger that day than Superman. Someday I would find my hero again and thank him. I couldn’t remember what I’d said to him back then, but it probably hadn’t been enough. All I remembered was barely escaping the danger.
When my eyes closed, the image came back—the one that had never left me: my hero’s face, blood running down his neck from the cut he’d gotten on his chin when he slipped on the rocks as he pushed me up to safety.
When I rolled over, the second nightmare started playing in my head. I was shivering, more from sadness and fear than the cold. I laid on the backseat of the car at the motel. We were three days into our trip across the country. I was five, and I’d just learned my parents had been killed in a car crash. I’d cried all that day and the next in the backseat of that car as we’d continued on to my aunt and uncle’s house. I prayed to God for it to not be true, for it to be reversed. He didn’t listen. That was my only other memory from that far back. Once again, strong emotions had cemented it in place.
Why did my earliest childhood memories have to be bad ones?
I forced my mind back to a good time—my first year in middle school and the cross country race I’d won. It was the first of three I’d won that year. Running had been my escape. One foot in front of the other, concentrating on the path so I wouldn’t fall or twist an ankle. Cross country was better than track that way. It required more concentration because the surface was uneven. I’d run until my legs gave out and my lungs burned. It was enough to win, enough to finally be the best at something, enough to be someone, enough to get my aunt and uncle’s praise.
I stared up at the ceiling and willed my heart rate to come down. I was going to be okay. I was okay. I’d survived, and I would continue to survive. I was an Armstrong, and that’s what we did.
That day so long ago, I’d outrun the older kids and finally outrun the demons of my past. That had been a good year, the year I’d understood I had to look forward instead of back.
I was a winner, and I gave up on feeling bad for myself that I’d lost my parents. My aunt and uncle loved me as their own, and I started calling them Mom and Dad. They deserved it, and that’s how it would be. Life would be better in the future; it had to be.
Win or lose, I was always a survivor.
All I had to do was concentrate on the memory of that day until sleep came again. If I concentrated enough, I could overpower the nightmares.
Luke
“Hey, little brother,” John’s voice came through the phone. “Did I wake your tender ass?” He was thirteen hours ahead in Korea and seemed to enjoy waking me when it was only dinner time over there.
“Yeah,” I groaned. It was dark outside my window. The clock read five-forty, and my dick was hard.
“Sorry. It couldn’t be helped.”
I doubted that. “Don’t they teach jarheads like you about time zones?” I grumbled.
“I’m up by five every morning. You should try it.”
In the Marines, he didn’t get the option of sleeping in the way I did, and I wasn’t trading places. The choice of getting up late was something I’d lost in prison. I intended to enjoy the liberty every day as a reminder that I was no longer on the inside.
“Brook needs some help,” he said.
“Why didn’t she call me if she needed something?” I shouldn’t have bothered to ask the useless question. My sister, Brooklyn, had been allergic to asking me for help ever since the incident.
He huffed. “I said she needs help. I didn’t say she asked for any. But, I need you to be cool about it.”
“Since when am I not cool?”
He laughed. “Do you really need me to remind you?”
“So, what’s the story?” I asked.
“It’s the guy she was seeing.”
I already didn’t like where this was going. She’d been hanging out with a real douchebag. “Are we talking about that dickhead Harry?” Harry had loser written all over him, but somehow Brooklyn didn’t see it.
“One and the same,” he affirmed.
“Maybe it’s time I went over and gave that asshole an attitude adjustment.”
“Now that there is exactly why she told me about this and not you. You need to promise me you’re not going to go all Rambo on this guy and make the problem even worse.”
He had good reason to be concerned. I’d protect Brooklyn with my life, and if that meant messing up this jerk Harry, I was the man for the job. The strong protected the weak, especially in our family.
“So, oh wise one, what are you asking me to do?” I asked.
“It seems she’s letting the guy get into her head. Listen to her, talk it out, and get her head on straight.”
That was something I could do. “That’s assuming she’ll talk to me about it.”
“That part’s up to you, little brother. Hey, gotta go.” With that, he ended the call to make sure he got the last word.
Brooklyn, oh, what have you gotten yourself into?
Debbie
Our shifts were almost over at the Minimart when Annie handed me back the key to the storeroom. “Locked up all safe and sound.”
“Can you drop me off at the library instead of home?” I asked.
Since Dom had taken my car keys, Mom had been driving me into work, but I had a task to accomplish today on the way home. Mom couldn’t be involved.
Annie checked the clock on the wall. “Easy peasy. I’m headed into DC to meet Jordie. He booked us a hotel for the weekend.”
“Way to go, girl.”
She went into the back with a definite lightness in her step. One of us was going to have a good weekend.
I’d have to settle for a retelling of the good times when she returned and imagining I could have the same in my future someday.
I unlocked the cabinet under the register and replaced the storeroom key. As the shift lead, I kept track of the key. Then I dialed Mom. I still had to clear this change of plans with her.