Chapter Seven

Adam takes Candice for a drive in his Jeep, but Candice's mind is anywhere but.

All of the houses pass in a blur, the house before and the house after appearing as one large pallet of faded colors as we speed by. Yes, speed.

                I wouldn’t have taken Adam Shepherd to be the type to break any sort of rule, but I have a feeling this is the first of many surprises he has in store.

                The engine is decently loud, and the tires beneath us create vibrations as they spin over the asphalt. This is a heavy duty vehicle, seemingly out of place in a big city. That is, of course, until winter hits and Adam is able to laugh at everyone in Volkswagens and Hondas who are stuck in snow banks left and right.

                I haven’t said a word since we left my street, I’ve just been sitting her with my hands tucked tightly between my legs, palm against palm. No eye contact has been made, either, as if my eyes are permanently fixed to this squeaky clean window. A squeaky clean window, now that is very in character for Adam Shepherd.

                “You alright, Candy?” I don’t know what catches me more off guard, the fact that the silence is finally broken or the fact that he just called me ‘Candy’. The only people that call me that are Connor and Shannon. And even they don’t do it all too often. They only use it when they’re trying to be really serious or when I’m being scolded for my apparent criminal lack of high self-esteem.

                “Huh?” I peel the back of my head from the headrest behind me, literally peeling it. Be it nerves, tension or just the blistering heat of September; my head is sweating profusely. My hair is all matted down, worse than usual, and I feel like I’m glued to the leather interior of the Jeep. “Oh, yeah. Just admiring the view.”

                Those damn lips of his curve into this smirk. If anyone else did that, I’d probably punch them right there on those lips. But for some reason when he does it, my stomach turns. In a really excited, annoying way. “Yeah, nothing quite like the sight of run down houses and cracked sidewalk.”

                Busted. “Maybe I just have unique taste.” I’m surprised by my bolt retort. Sure for a normal person the sarcastic response would come naturally, but as you know by now I am not a normal person.

                “Candy…” He just did it again. My name is Candice. C-A-N-D-I-C-E! Uh, who am I kidding? He can call me whatever the hell he wants. He could call me ‘Candle’ and my stomach would still do that damn jumping thing just because he’s talking to me. “What exactly happened before I got there?”

                I force myself to turn my head, looking away from the kind soul behind the steering wheel. I’m suddenly aware of the sticky feeling of smear-dried mascara on my cheeks, and I do not like it. “It was nothing, really.”

                “Okay… But you know you can talk to me, right?” He sounds genuinely concerned. He has this perfect life: nice car, great grades, and friends. Why is he so curious about my pitiful little tales of self-loathing and family turmoil?

                “I can’t talk to you about this… I can’t talk to anyone about anything.”

                “Close your eyes, Candice.”

                “Close my eyes?”

                “Close your eyes.” He’s stern. It’s not demanding or threatening, but he means it. I let my naturally long lashes grow closer together, everything slowly getting darker until my top and bottom eyelids finally meet.

                “Are they closed?” I hum simply in return. “Just take a minute… Listen to the engine, listen to your breathing. I don’t know, don’t think too much. Just be here.”

                Just be here? What does that even mean?

                “You’re thinking, Candice… No thinking.”

                How the hell does he know? Whatever. He’s the smarter one in this car, so for now I have to trust him.

                Inhaling deeply, I feel every muscle in my body tense up. Chances are they were already tense, but now it’s obvious. As I exhale, I feel them relax. There’s something almost disorienting about listening to your own breathing. We subconsciously do it every second of every day without as much as a second thought. But hearing it, hearing it and not thinking about anything else, is a mind-f**k.

                We did a guided meditation in health class back in junior high. Key word being guided. They gave us different things to focus on. We were laying down on a floor. Yet here I am, listening to my breathing and the roaring engine of a car that I am sitting straight up in.

                It’s not exactly a Beverly Hills Pilates class but I am feeling different. I never realized how much time I spend thinking, and it’s almost always thinking about something other than what I should be.

                Inhale, exhale. I don’t feel my body anymore. For a moment, I’m not even sure where I am. I’ve fallen into a mental abyss where mere existence is enough. No daydreams, no fantasies and no analysis of the events in my life.

                “Talk.” That stern tone shakes me a bit, but it doesn’t draw me out of this state. All sounds surrounding me are still dull, the puffs of breath and the light thumping sound of my heartbeat drown out most everything else.

                Without thinking, my lips part and I just start speaking. Words flow freely as if a dam has held them back for years and that dam just broke. “My mom became an alcoholic after I was born. My father left long before that. Her drinking got worse and worse until it finally cost her her job. And then another one, and another. She finally gave up. So my brother took over as our caretaker. He really hates her, or maybe he doesn’t. I don’t know, can you hate your own mother?” I sound so emotionless, more like a CNN Breaking News update than someone who’s actually been living amidst all of this drama for close to sixteen years.

                “I guess it’s possible… Sometimes I hate her too.” That’s the first time I’ve said it. I’m grateful for this weird trance that I’m in because had I been completely aware when I said that, I know I’d be a sobbing mess. “I know it’s not her fault and it’s not my fault, but it feels like it sometimes. Connor would never blame me, he loves me. But he feels like she gave up on both of us. He’s been playing father instead of going after his own dreams. And she just keeps drinking.”

                I’m never blunt. I’m never open or honest, and the things that just absentmindedly seeped from my mouth are things I’ve never even talked to Shannon about. Not at length, anyway. She knew the story, but she didn’t pry and I’m not one to give details.

                I’m done talking. There’s plenty more to tell, but even in this daze I can feel the exhaustion setting in. When you don’t talk a lot and then suddenly spew a monologue, it takes a toll on you.

                The silence continues, and I can feel myself slowly start to withdraw from that place of tranquility. The sounds of the engine and the tires and passing cars increase in volume, my breathing fading back into obscurity.

                Reality begins to set in harshly, like an anvil is sitting atop of the sand in the top of an hour glass and I’m standing at the bottom, pounds and pounds of sand starting to crush me.

                I don’t know what I expect to see when my eyes open, but as they finally do I’m in disbelief. My arm is on the center console, and my hand that was clutching the leather before everything went dark is now clutching something else. Flesh and bone.

                Adam is holding my hand, and his head is over his shoulder, the turn signal on as we change lanes, approaching an exit with a bunch of fast food restaurants listed on the sign. As his head swings back, he must catch me in his peripheral vision. His blank expression turns to a comforting smile. No, I really mean his whole expression is a smile. Everything from his cheek bones to his eyes.

                Not like he’s happy that my life sucks, but one of those smiles that you can feel lifting your spirits.

                “Okay… I feel fine.” Usually when someone says they feel okay or fine, it’s a lie. I just said both and I completely mean those words. Despite that overwhelming feeling that bombarded me when I first snapped out of the meditative state, I feel okay.

                “Good. You see? Nothing bad happens to you when you open up a bit. It’s okay to talk to people. It’s safe to talk to me.”

                Now I’m the one smiling. I doubt all of my facial features are as involved as when he smiles, but I am smiling. And it’s genuine. That’s a big improvement.

                From the exit ramp, we turn right and head in the direction of all of the lit up fast food signs. “I’d love to take you someplace nice, but I wasn’t prepared. I’ve only got ten bucks on me and my ATM card is at home. But if you had to pick?”

                “No, no. It’s okay,” I reassure him. “I had a tiny sliver of burnt chicken for dinner, I’m okay to eat anything.” He seems unsure how to respond, but he cracks that smile again when I laugh. “McDonald’s work for you?”

                “Yeah,” he turns into the parking lot as he nods his head. “Drive-thru okay? You know, so I can get you back home.”

                I cringe as I shrug my shoulders. “Not really eager to get back home.”

                I expect him to suggest going inside to eat. That would be the typical response, right? “Drive-thru and my house, then?”

                Yeah. That’s not what I was expecting. 

Reviews

[Meeks]

Candice is a great name, actually. I'm always on the lookout for odd phrases and things that sound perfectly amazing, and have actually only gotten two from this site so far. 'Candice' is the second.
Do you know anybody actually named that or was it just inspiration and the muse?

The style is almost perfect, I have to admit. Some of the transitions between paragraphs sound screwy, at least in the beginning. Even monologue can't just randomly skip around.

Besides that, Candice is either really trusting, or really needs a friend, or knows this person well. Or is on drugs, but thats beside the point. The thing is, she sounds really trusting towards Adam, and a bit of meditation doesn't sound like it would break that.

Overall, good job. Really good flow, interesting conclusion, you know what you're doing. Probably better than me anyways.
Keep up the writing.

[Mark Alexander Boehm]

I actually had the nickname/term "Candy Corn" in mind first and from that I came up with Candice Cornell.
A lot of the transitions are somewhat choppy on purpose because I'm trying to convey the way Candice's mind works (all over the place), but I could certainly still clean it up a little more.
Much appreciated, Meeks!

[Cyndy Robinson]

Nice read good story. What ever transitional choppiness is being talked about I am not not noticing. I think it is an excellent portrayal of a teen-age female, having been one at one time. A long time ago, lol. I think my mind is still that choppy and all over the place. LOL.