Life After Taylah(2)

There are times Jacob is kind. He’s never sweet, but he can be kind. I’ve learned there’s a big difference between the two.

I take his hand and let him lift me to my feet.

“It was okay,” I murmur, slipping my shoes off and picking them up.

“Lyn said you did well.”

Lyn lied.

“I’m getting there.”

I turn to Jacob, and stare up at him. He’s six-foot tall and well built. He’s got shaggy blond hair and big blue eyes. His skin is pale and his features all seem to fit perfectly. His nose is straight and flawless. His lips aren’t too full, nor are they too thin. His jaw is square. His forehead is just the right width. He’s been carefully pieced together, yet his looks don’t excite me.

“Your dad called; he’s made dinner. He wants to discuss the business plans. You should be there.”

I sigh. My father tries to make us dinner often, but it never ends well. My brother, Liam, always ends up arguing with him and then storms out. I’m left with Jacob and my dad, and they just go on and on about the business.

My father is a bitter man. He has been since the day Momma went missing. He only shows passion when he speaks about his company; otherwise, his answers are grunts. I’m sure her going missing broke him as much as it did us, but he refuses to show it. He just shut down.

“I am going to see Liam tonight,” I say, lifting my bag.

“It’s important we attend. You know it means a lot to him.”

“I know,” I say. “But Liam hasn’t called for days, I’m worried about him.”

“Your brother is selfish and his attitude doesn’t help anything. He doesn’t deserve your concern.”

I stiffen. He knows nothing. He will never understand the kind of heartbreak that is left behind in such a situation.

“Don’t start with me, please. I don’t have the patience tonight,” I whisper, tucking my hair behind my ears.

“Well then maybe it’s best you don’t come, if you’re only going to upset your father with your unfortunate attitude.”

I grind my teeth together and turn, facing him. “You know what? You’re right. It is better I don’t come.”

I turn and walk towards the exit before he has the chance to speak. I’ve got nothing to say to Jacob when he’s acting as though I don’t care.

I care.

I’ve lived with my father daily after Mom went missing. I’ve lived with his grief, his anger, his frustration and his pain. I’ve watch my brother become involved with drugs and bad people. I’ve watched him sink. Through all this, I’ve lived with my own hurts. My own loss. My own broken soul.

He’ll never understand.

I get it better than anyone.

~*~*~*~

“Open up, Liam,” I yell, banging on my brother’s door. It’s a new apartment, but the door is broken, with big splinters of wood protruding out. That’s a result of the constant parties he has here.

It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen him, and he’s not returning my calls. I can hear loud, booming music coming from behind the door, and I know my brother is having yet another party. It’s his way of coping, and as much as I hate to seem him channeling his pain like this, I can’t blame him for it. We all have our own ways of dealing with these things.

“Liam!” I scream.

The door flings open and a tall, red-headed man stands in the gap. He stares down at me for a moment and a grin appears on his face, showing me a row of less-than-charming teeth. Yuck. I wrinkle my nose and stare past him at the unit full of drunks. They are swaying, staggering, singing horribly to the music and lying all over my brother’s furniture.

“Where’s Liam?” I ask.

“He’s occupied, but I’m sure I’ve got five minutes for you.”

I stare up at him, and mutter, “Yuck. Don’t flatter yourself. I’d rather lick the pavement.”

His face hardens, and he glares at me. “Too uppity for this side of town. Girls like you don’t belong here. Go home or I’ll sort you out myself.”

“Is that a threat?” I challenge, putting my hands on my hips.

I’m tall and slim, but I’ve got some grunt when I need it. I shove my long, honey-blond hair over my shoulder and stare him dead in the eye. He narrows his gaze, but soon becomes bored and turns. “Enter, I couldn’t care less.”

I step past him, staring around my brother’s unit. It’s so disgusting—yet the tragic thing is it’s a brand new unit. There are pizza boxes that have become soggy and moldy all over the coffee table. Beer bottles are strewn about, and there are clothes everywhere. People are filling the couches, the kitchen and apparently the bedrooms. I shove through them, needing to find my brother.