On the Rocks (Pub Fiction Book 2) Page 2

  Within the first week of Grams’ little revelation, she hired a crew to convert the basement of her house into a two-bedroom apartment, complete with a modest-sized living room, washroom, and a galley-style kitchen. I cast a guilty look at the virgin countertop and stove on my way to the bathroom. I’m not sure why she bothered having a kitchen installed, as she never lets me cook, instead insisting we eat as a family. She prepares all our meals as cooking has always been her passion. My grandmother takes cooking classes over at the community centre and lucky for us we get to be her guinea pigs, sampling all the new recipes she learns.

  Grams was more adamant than I was about us having our own private space so I could feel independent—comfortable doing my own thing. Which, if Grams were to have her way, would involve having all kinds of friends over, being social with other “humans” as she puts it. Basically, Grams wants to see me hanging out with more than herself and Emmerson. I look at this woman who took me in during my most desperate time and I honestly cannot fathom how this is the same person who shares DNA with my own mother. A mother who wants nothing to do with me.

  I didn’t even get the chance to offer any protest. It was happening regardless. Once my grandmother decides something, it’s law.

  My grandmother started living her life to the fullest after Gramps passed away at the age of sixty. He died from an unexpected heart attack; forever affecting her outlook on life, and I think having us here helped to offset some of the sadness she felt living alone. However, Violet Daniels had made up her mind to cross every item off her bucket list. She’d taken classes, travelled when she could, dated, and above all, she allowed herself to have fun. My grandparents had always been smart with their money. My grandfather was an investment banker with Edward Jones Investments, and had always done well with the stock market. I know he left Grams more than enough money to live comfortably. But that doesn’t mean I want her spending all her money on us, which is one of the arguments I lose most often. Hence, my beautiful basement apartment for two.

  My long hair is as good as it’s going to get. Back upstairs, I grab my coffee mug and top it off before plopping down beside Emme and Grams at the table.

  “You’ll do great today,” Grams says, patting my hand. “You were nice and quick, we’d better leave in about fifteen minutes. Now eat up and think positive.”

  “I hope so, Grams. I’m feeling uneasy, I guess,” I say with a sigh, pausing mid-sip. “I’m nervous for Emme to start school and about this damn interview at Pub Fiction. I mean, in all reality, who’s going to hire me as a social worker after this year if I’ve never had a job interacting or being social with people?” I let out an awkward laugh at the idea. “I just really hope this goes well. Not to mention how much I want Little Miss to love school.”

  “Oh, darling, you have nothing to be nervous about. She’ll love school; all the kids there will make her forget we even exist. Trust me on that. She is more than ready for the big leagues. And as for the interview, I know the hours are perfect and it’s an ideal job for right now but don’t stress either way. There are plenty of jobs to be had in this city. Besides, I’m sure once they meet you, they’ll find out how wonderful you are and the job will be yours.”

  “I sure hope so, because it’s not like I have a bunch of experience working in a bar—or anywhere—for that matter.” I fidget with my hands thinking I don’t even stand a chance. This is a terrible idea. I’ve never had a job. Who in their right mind is going to be willing to take a chance on me?

  “Mmm…smells good this morning, Grams,” my best friend London sniffs as she charges in from the backyard door. “And, oh, my poor dear Hooker,” she continues, having obviously heard what we were saying, as she takes over the conversation like only she can even though she just walked in. “You will be outstanding. Don’t even sweat it.” She flaps her hand at me.

  Unfortunately, my Grams leaves the door unlocked for London since she joins us every morning for breakfast. London lives next door with her sister and brother while she attends university. Their parents moved out west to Vancouver for a year because their father was asked to help open a new office, and the kids have been left to look after the house over the next year while they’re gone. London and Lucy attend Brock U with me and Linden is a teacher over at Mountainview Elementary. Grams, being Grams, offered to help keep an eye on them. So far it’s been working out. Well, except for the fact none of them cook; hence Grams leaving the door open for The Strays, as I like to call them, to come and go for meals as they please.

  “Stop calling me that in front of Emme. Actually, stop calling me that altogether,” I chastise, trying to sound determined so she’ll know I’m serious but knowing she’ll just ignore me anyway.

  “Whatever,” she says, flapping at me again. “Loosen up and I’ll start calling you ‘Tighty’. See what I’m doing? I figure if I play the opposites game, maybe the forces will bring you that someone special Grams and I are hoping you’ll meet sooner than later.” She pauses to allow me to process this. God, this girl is crazy. “I figure you need all the help you can get, and besides you need some loosening up. Even Grams agrees.” She narrows her eyes at me. “We talked about it last night when Linden and I came for tea. It was friggin’ ten o’clock and you were sleeping like an old maid. We all agreed that you need to get a life. Right, Grams?”

  “Yes, honey, I do agree. I mean, even I step out and have fun from time to time. You need to start, Braun. It’s time to be a real human again and interact and play nicely with others. And perhaps you will meet a nice boy this year at school,” she adds, hope gleaming in her eyes.

  I know she worries about me, but I’m fine.

  “I can definitely relate to you, sweetheart,” Grams continues. I nod, knowing she can. “And I know it’s hard. Moving on isn’t something to take lightly, especially after all you’ve been through with Shawn’s passing. I mean look at me, I’ve been seeing Lewis more than a year now, and I know we’re serious, so it can definitely happen. They aren’t called second chances for nothing, you know. I swear, after your Gramps passed I figured I’d never find a new partner. I wasn’t even sure I’d want one, but look, I’ve had a few regular sexu—” She cuts herself off, and London and I both mutter our own versions of “thank goodness”. There is no way I want to hear that word coming from Gram’s mouth, ever. London and I pass a look to each other then of course burst out laughing. Grams just shakes her head, continuing to tend to Emme. “Crazy ladies, up in here, Emme, I tell ya.”

  “Okay, listen you two,” I pause, waiting for London to sit down with her plate of pancakes and cup of coffee before going on. “I appreciate the concern, I do. I know you both worry but I’m happy, I promise. I have some news though, and I think you’ll both be excited. I’ve been thinking a lot lately on my own coupled, of course, with you two nagging me,” I tease, “and decided it’s time I branch out. I think it’s time I work on finding who I am post-Shawn. Not only because you guys are royal pains in my butt, but because I’m starting to have more good days than bad. That being said, you need to let me go at my own pace.” I glare at them both and kiss Emmerson on the head. “I’ll look into joining more social events at school, going out a bit more and possibly even dating. Besides, if I get this job it will be a perfect start. So, no pressuring me. I’ll get there.” I take a deep breath, relieved they are both smiling at me.

  “Oh, Braun, that’s great news, sweetheart. I’m excited for you.”

  “Thanks, Grams. Me too. I spoke to Juan, the chairperson for the Philanthropy club, and he told me that they really need volunteers to work a few of their fundraising events this year. One’s a bowl-a-thon, so I told him to put me down for that. I figured Emme could come too.”

  Grams smiles over at Emme. “She’ll love that.”

  “And you.” I point to London. “Stop calling me ‘Hooker’, and call the ‘forces’ off, London. I don’t need your crazy voodoo—I got this.” I wink, trying my hardest to show them I’m confiden
t. London rolls her eyes. Lord knows, they’ll be watching, waiting and trying to “help”, regardless of my pleas. What have I set myself up for?

  Chapter 2

  Braunwyn

  “Pwease no more pictures, Mommy. I wanna play wif the kids,” Emmerson complains as we pose for yet another photo. This time I’ve got one of the other mothers snapping a few shots of Emmerson, Grams and I.

  “All right, Emme. We’re all done. But can you just stay with me for a few more minutes? Mommy’s gotta go soon and I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “I’ll miss you too, Mommy,” she says, and she hugs my legs. “Now can I go?” I can’t help laughing. Such a smart girl.

  “Okay, baby. You go play. Mommy will be right here with Grams.”

  “You’re going to have to leave sometime, Braun. You’ve already missed the eight-fifteen bus. Isn’t your interview at nine?”

  “Yeah. But she needs me.” I watch as Emme runs along the grass with a young boy and two other girls. I grab my camera snapping a few pictures.

  “She needs you? Or is it that you need her?” Grams says, eyeing me.

  “I can’t believe he’s not here for this…” I whisper, thoughts of Shawn seeping into my mind as I watch Emme, who’s becoming so independent. “I can’t believe what he’s missing. Missed.” I wipe my tears, falling like they do whenever I speak of Shawn, thinking of all the incredible things he didn’t get to see: first steps, first tooth, four birthdays and now her starting school. Then I get a little mad thinking of all the things Emmerson is missing out on, not having her dad. I hate feeling like this.

  “He’s watching her, sweetheart. Don’t you dare think he wouldn’t be.” Grams words pull me back to the here and now. She hugs me close while offering a tissue.

  Having Shawn in my life was the only thing that kept me from falling apart when I was pregnant, so when my parents turned on me, it didn’t really affect me as much as it could have, because I had him. He was supportive and insisted I was his and he was mine forever. And that we were in this newly, approaching parental-role-thingy together. “We will kick the shit out of being parents, Wynnie, we can do this. All I need is you—and you, me—so fuck the rest of them,” he’d say whenever my fears would show and my panic would shine through the cracks in our relationship’s foundation. Shawn would hold me and rub my midsection, sharing the way he saw our life playing out. I’d indulge in his dreams and smile, taking comfort that he was my family now—all we needed. So, with the promise of a future together, I’d excitedly prepared for the role of mother and full-time live-in girlfriend (and eventual wife) of Shawn Parker.

  Until the day I found his lifeless body.

  “I just figured we’d make it, is all. I never ever imagined it would be like this.”

  “You are making it, you hear me? Maybe you’re a little slow at allowing yourself to move on, but I have faith you’ll get there. He’s watching, Braun. I have no doubt Shawn will always take care of his girls. Emmerson is a precious gift, look at her smile. Shawn is with you both every day. You have Emmerson, she has you, and Emmerson will have the memories you have to offer her of her father. You’re a survivor, Braun. Don’t you ever forget it.”

  “Look at her, Grams, she’s perfect. How can my mom and dad not want to know her? How do they live with themselves knowing they have a granddaughter? It’s been four years, Grams. I thought things might have changed.” My chest feels tight, thinking about it. I could never do what my parents did to me and Emmerson.

  “I know, sweetie. Me too. I’ve spent many nights wondering what the hell’s wrong with that mother of yours. I mean look at our precious girl. And her mom isn’t too bad either.” She nudges me, offering a smile.

  God, I’m blessed to have this woman in my life.

  Shawn’s suicide destroyed me for a while and changed not only the way I view life now, but the way I see myself too. The reality is, I know he suffered with depression and mental illness his whole life, but I always thought I was his medicine, his lifeline, maybe I was his enough. I went from feeling like I was a positive to questioning whether I was his downfall. Well, me and Emmerson. Everyone around me seemed hell bent on the idea that it was my “allowing myself to get pregnant” that drove him to the brink. That maybe he couldn’t handle the commitment I was “forcing” him into. Our families were the first to share their theories with me, especially Shawn’s mother.

  She went as far as berating me in front of everyone at the funeral. Telling everyone how I killed her baby and was nothing but a sinner—“a murderer”—and that I should give up my rights as a mother, as I didn’t deserve to have a piece of him to hold on to. It was awful. My own parents didn’t even come to meet their granddaughter when she was born. They couldn’t find it in themselves to forgive me. According to my parents, they were too embarrassed over my choices. They repeatedly reminded me that they’d warned me this would happen if I kept up with “That Boy.”

  I just can’t believe how judgmental and unsupportive my family has been, given how strong their faith in God was. Where was their faith in me? I needed them. Besides, doesn’t God offer forgiveness?

  I was the only one other than the police to read Shawn’s note. A note I hold sacred. A note I have read over and over, one I will probably continue to read for the rest of my life. Once the suicide was officially verified, I was given a copy of it back, along with the rest of Shawn’s personal effects (Officer Riley told me that she shouldn’t really be giving me a copy, and to keep that tidbit to myself). I will be forever grateful that she was kind enough to bend the rules for me. Other than Emme, it’s the last piece of him I have. A note he left for me, and only me, a note claiming his decision to leave this world had nothing to do with me. A note that tells me over and over that he was sorry, and he loved me so much that it hurt him to feel the way he’d always felt—sad. Saying he’d wanted to do this for years, but it had been me who’d always healed him long enough to push him through another day and the next day.

  “Now, take one last look at your happy girl, and go catch the bus. You have a job to get,” Grams says shaking me free of my thoughts. I hate when I do that. I hate when I allow myself to get tangled up in the past, how it sidelines me like that. I watch Emmerson playing on the swings. It’s their loss.

  In the end, Grams is right. She’s always right. Emme is already way too heartbreakingly busy with the other kids to even notice me waving at her. And I need to go or else there won’t be a potential job. But I’d know I left before the entry bell. Too bad my legs don’t want to go.

  “I know she’ll be fine. I just can’t seem to leave.”

  Looking back over to where Emmerson was playing a moment ago I see her walking towards me.

  “You can weave mommy, I’m gonna keep playing. Go now, I’m a big girl. See you after the day. Don’t worry, Grams is here, too, for more time.” I nod down at my brave girl. Tears threaten to escape once again.

  “You’re right. You are such a big girl and Mommy is so proud of you. I’ll pick you up right out here at two-thirty. I can’t wait to hear about your day.” I bend to my knees taking her in a big hug. She squeezes me tightly, giving me a super smooch.

  After finally building up the nerve to leave Emmerson, I drag my feet along the concrete sidewalk heading toward the bus stop.

  I’m trying to milk every moment with Emmerson, but also, all the while, possibly trying to delay the inevitable job interview. I pop my ear buds in place trying to drown out my worried thoughts; I lose myself in the music of my favourite band. I think about how sweet and intuitive my girl is, even at her age, trying to give me that last ounce of comfort to know it’s okay. She’s right, she is becoming a big girl. I keep turning back to see if I can spot her as the deep bass sound of Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus” comforts me, matching my heart beat-for-beat.

  Leaving Emmerson at school was hard, like ache-in-my-heart-hard; she’s my baby but not my baby anymore. I’m struggling to bite back tears as I
walk. Turning back one last time before rounding the corner, I smile thinking of my brave girl. This will be the first time she won’t be with either Grams or myself for the day. Unfortunately, no parents are allowed to stay or else Grams would have jumped at the chance to ensure Emme transitioned all right.

  I wipe an escaped tear from my face as I head for the bus stop.

  Chapter 3

  Braunwyn

  I wait at the bus stop with a cluster of other people, all doing their best to avoid contact: listening to music with their heads bobbing, faces sucked into the gravity wells of their phones, glaring crankily down the street to see if the bus is finally coming. I smile nervously as I try to make eye contact with an older lady, but she continues staring blankly ahead, at nothing. Ahh, the “human behaviour” of which Grams speaks. The bus is nowhere in sight, so I turn up my music and stare into nothing myself for a while. So much for my attempt at human interaction, but at least I tried. Hopefully, my interview will go better.

  As I’d mentioned, my goal after graduation is to become a social worker. I’d love to work in a high school or group home. Despite not having a ton of job-related experience, I have life experience. All I want to do with my life is to help others to not have to experience what both Shawn and I went through. The way I look at it, we’re both victims. And I’ll always wonder if his suicide could have been prevented.

  My biggest inspiration to chase this dream, from having seen firsthand that a difference can be made, is Hillary Jamison. My own social worker.

  After Shawn’s death, it was Hillary who helped me repair my faith in myself, and adjust to my new role as both mom and dad to my sweet Emme. Through active therapy, countless hours of crying, and in the end a friendship, I realized that I wanted to be just like Hillary when I grew up.

  Am I fully healed and believe that my life is perfect and I’ll get a happily ever after with some dream man one day? Absolutely not. I’m still totally messed up emotionally when it comes to the opposite sex and I’m such a chickenshit to even think about getting involved with anyone ever again. I quite honestly could be a friggin’ nun at this point; London is right. ’Cause I have had none in the last four years and I have no real plans on changing that anytime soon. I just can’t allow myself to go through that ache and hurt ever again. How the hell can I ever trust another human male with my heart?