Love Locked Away Chapter 2

 

It was almost 2 o'clock when I got home. I went to the kitchen and put the groceries away. and made myself a sandwich. I grabbed a soda and went upstairs to get dress in my paint gear. Mom's door was tightly closed when I passed it to get to my room. After I ate I put my hair back, and changed into an old t-shirt and jeans that I wear when I paint. Quietly, I walked back passed mom's room went back downstairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. The back door leads to a small deck with a staircase leading to the ground. With my new paint and brushes in hand, I went to the old barn behind my house where I had all of my studio setup. The barn hadn't been used as anything else since we owned it and mom got tired of stains on the floor so she had me setup out here. I didn’t mind and in fact enjoyed it. It gave me the space I needed to work anyway. I even had a small refrigerator and couch put out here because there were plenty of times I would get so involved with my work that I didn't want to stop to go inside to eat.

I got my paint and easel ready and dipped my new brush into my new blue paint and put it to the paper. Often there were times I didn't have to think about what I wanted to paint. I would just put the brush to the paper and my hand would start to move where it wanted to go. I worked vigorously for a couple hours and stopped to get a bottle of water out of the fridge and stepped outside. The sun was just beginning to set, with streaks of orange and pink in the sky.

I went into the house and saw mom at the counter making a cup of coffee. She was wearing her robe and house slippers. Mom always looked drained because of the hours she worked . I worried about her so often. On top of the hours she works, Rose's death had really taken a toll on her. She had lost a good 20 pounds since then, and constantly had bags under eyes. She appeared 10 years older then her age.

“Morning mom,” I greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired dear.” she replied. “Did you stop at the store for me?”

“Yep. Thank you for letting me have the left over money. I just got some really cool new oil paint. I didn't used to care for it, but this brand I'm using has a much better texture.”

“Well, that’s nice dear.” she said and sat down at the table. I sat across from her to talk while she drank her coffee.

“Mom, you don't look so well. I think you should maybe switch to a different shift or something. You always look so tired.”

“I'm fine, Claire.” she argued. “I'm just a little tired today.”

“Okay. I'm just worried about you. You don't look to good, maybe you should take the night off.”

“I can't do that, honey. I'm fine, I promise.” she said and finished her coffee. “I have to go take a shower and start getting ready. Stop worrying about me I'll be fine.” she stood up and took her cup to the sink, and left the kitchen.

I went to the half bathroom which was off the living room, then went back out to the barn. Once there I put a CD into the stereo I had setup and went back to my painting. The little boy in my painting looked very sad. He wasn't crying but he didn't need to to make your heart sore. He was in a forest just as twilight sets in. I imagined he was lost and didn't know how to find his way out. He looked to be no older then 7 with a shock of raven brown hair and very sad gray-blue eyes.

I worked until I was to tired to concentrate. By then, it was 11:30 and mom had been gone for a few hours. She never interrupted me when I was working on something. I never asked this of her. I didn't have to. She understood what it took for me to concentrate on my work. I went back to the house and made myself some tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.

I sat down at the table to eat my food, and started thinking about Vincent. I had avoided thinking about him all day, but now that I wasn't busy, I had nothing to keep my thoughts away from him. I knew he'd never be interested in me. I was to plain for someone like him. I thought to myself. I hated to admit it to myself, but I was jealous. I never really let this kind of thing bother me before, but for some reason this time it really bothered me. Brooke always got what she wanted and honestly it wasn't fair. I worked a lot harder on everything that she ever has, but she always had it much easier then I did. I shook off my thoughts of Brooke and Vincent. I couldn't let it bother me. When I finished eating I washed my dishes and went upstairs to get ready for bed.

The following Monday I had a weird feeling when I was getting ready for school. It was then that it occurred to me that Vincent maybe in my grade which would mean I would be seeing him at school. I wasn't sure how old he was but he looked to be between 17 and 19. This made me very nervous. After I ate and drank my coffee, I grabbed my jacket and headed at the door. It was very cold this morning, I thought, and hurried to get in my car.

Randall High was about 8 miles east of my house. When I pulled into the parking lot, a swarm of students were getting out of cars and buses. The school was nothing special with only about 200 students. The brick building itself was very old and was in bad need of remodeling.

I skimmed through the crowd of high schoolers, and sure enough I saw the dark head I was afraid of seeing. It was Vincent stepping out of a black Ferrari 360 spider. I had never known anyone to have a car like that around here. The butterflies in my stomach were going nuts now. I wasn't sure what to do with myself and quickly made my way to the building.

I made it inside and to my locker before he had been able to spot me, but just after I put my things away and started getting what I needed for my first class I heard someone behind me say my name. It was Mrs. Robins, my principal, and standing next to here was Vincent. It caught me off guard and I fell back against my locker.

“Are you alright, Claire.?” she asked me. Mrs. Robins was a very short, thin woman with dark brown hair cut just below her ears.

“Uh. Yes, Mrs. Robins.” I replied. “I was just startled.”

“Okay, then. Claire this is Vincent Wolfe, Vincent this is Claire Summers. Today is Vincent's first and it seems you have almost all the same classes. I was hoping you could show him around the school today.” My heart started racing. Vincent seemed as dumbfounded as I was. Vincent Was wearing a dark red, very expensive looking sweater, with black jeans and black boots. He looked stunning.

“Sure, Mrs. Robins.”I replied, not really knowing what else to do. “I'd be happy to.”

“Very good, Claire. Vincent, I hope you enjoy our school. Welcome to Randall High.” she exclaimed and walked away.

We just stood there, looking around trying to avoid looking directly at each other. Finally he broke the silence and said “Hi, Claire. How are you?”

“I'm okay, I guess. How about you?”

“Tired. I'm not much of a morning person.” He replied.

“Oh. So were you assigned a locker yet?”

“Yeah. Number 122.”

“That’s just a few lockers down.” I said and led him to the 6^th locker down from mine. While he was putting his stuff in his locker, I looked over his schedule. We had all the same classes together. I didn't really know how to feel about this. On one hand I was really happy, but on the other I knew their was no reason for me to get excited.

“Well, our first class with Mr. Gilbert for Trigonometry. His class is at the end of the hall.” I told him. He finished putting his things away and we headed for class, both of us silent.

We stepped in the door just before first bell rang. Every student in the room looked up with interest, but the girls all held there stares. Mr. Gilbert realized the sudden hush over the room and looked up from his desk. Mr. Gilbert was middle aged between 45-50 with thick salt and pepper colored hair, hazel eyes and stood about 6 feet tall.

“Well, hello there. Who is this, Clair?” He asked with a warm smile.

“This is Vincent Wolfe, sir.” I answered. “ This is his first day.”

“Well then.” He said. “Welcome to our school, Mr. Wolfe. Why don't you have a seat in the empty desk in the third row and I'll get your books.”

“Okay. Thank you, sir.” Vincent responded and we both took our seats. I sat in the fourth row and 3 desks away from Vincent.

I had a very hard time concentrating in class. Every few minutes I caught myself looking at Vincent. I noticed him doing the same thing. We went to our next two classes together, language arts first, with Mr. Knight, and advanced biology with Ms. Logan. We both tried to concentrate more, but still occasionally catching glimpses of each other. I didn't really know what to think. I had never known a guy to show this much interest, especially someone like him. After biology it was lunchtime and I showed him were the cafeteria was. I always packed my lunch so I headed for a secluded table.

I wasn't exactly Miss popular at school. It was very rare that I spoke to someone over then a teacher. I actually enjoyed it. I didn't have to worry about being bothered by anyone. However, to my surprise, Vincent sat directly across from me after getting his lunch. The last time anyone sat at the same table as me was when Brooke was still in school.

“I see you don't like the food here.” He commented with an impish grin, nodding at my crackers with turkey and cheese. He took a bite out of the burger on his tray and grimaced. “Wow. I don't blame you. I think tomorrow I'll pack mine too. I laughed.

“I never cared for school food and have been packing my lunch since I can remember.” I told him, taking a drink of my grape juice.

“I never cared for it to much myself, but at least the lunch from the school I just came from was edible. This just taste like cardboard with a lot of grease.” He set his tray aside, unable to eat. I offered him some of my food.

“Normally, I would say no but I'm pretty hungry today.” He replied and I gave him part of my lunch. He ate his food rather quickly and said. “Wow thank you so much. Much better then that garbage.” he said pointing at his abandoned tray.

“No problem. I usually pack to much anyway.” I told him. He looked around the room for a moment, then looked back at me and we locked eyes.

“So Claire. Now that we have a few minutes to talk I would like to apologize for Friday night. I take it that Brooke is a friend of yours?”

“Was a friend.” I corrected. “ And I wasn't really mad at you. I was mad at her for bailing out on me like she's done so many times since I've been friends with her. We've had a messed up friendship for a long time.” I told him. “Although I must say, you work fast don't you?” I asked using my eyes as darts.

“Whoa.” He responded. “I tried to get her to leave me alone. I was just there to pick up a pizza because there wasn't much food at home from us just moving in. While I was waiting on it, she came up to me and started talking and flirting. I tried to get her to back off but she wouldn't. I think she may have been a little drunk. “ he explained. “I was actually quite uncomfortable, but to be honest, I felt kind of sorry for her.” he said with a look of pity and then disgust.

“I really not surprised.” I told him. “ And I bet she wasn't drunk. I hate to say it, but she's got quite the reputation around here.”

“Well, I hope you forgive me. That's not something I normally do.” he seemed to be almost pleading me with his eyes to forgive him.

“It's okay. Like I said, I wasn't really mad at you. It was Brooke I was angry with.” I assured him.

“Good.” he said looking relieved. “That's good.”

The bell rang and we cleaned up our table and headed to our next class. I made sure to concentrate on my work better the rest of the day. Between our classes, Vincent and I chatted about the school me telling him more and more about it. He didn't really seem interested in the school, he just wanted a reason to talk. I wasn't sure if it was interest in me, or if he just wanted someone to talk to. He solved my uncertainty after school.

“Claire!” I heard Vincent yell just as I had reached my car to leave. I turned to see him jogging toward me. “Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for helping me out today. Starting a new school sucks.”

“Oh, it wasn't a problem. I'm glad I could help.” I told him.

“Okay. Well I'll see you tomorrow Thanks again.”

“Okay. See you later.” I said and got in my car and headed for home.

On my way home, when I was about a mile away from my house, a horrible feeling came over me. It was so strong that I considered going somewhere else. When I pulled in my driveway and got out, I approached the house very slowly. When I opened the front door, I heard mom in the living room talking. That made the feeling even worse because I knew she should be sleeping. I peered in the door way and saw her on the phone. Her eyes were bloodshot.

“Mom?” I said. She turned toward me, I could still see tears on her cheeks. “Mom, whats wrong?” She got off the phone and told me to sit next to her on the couch.

“Claire honey, I've got something I have to tell you.” she started. I was holding my breath at this point and could feel my heart pounding in my chest. “Claire, that was your Aunt April on the phone. Do you remember her?” She asked. I did remember. She was my father's sister. The last time I seen her, my father or anyone else in my dads family was at Rose's funeral. Before that I hadn't seen them since I was 11.

“Yes I remember. What did she want?” I asked with hostility.

“Claire,” she said very softly. “There was an accident with your father last night.”

“What, did he get drunk and hit somebody?”

“No baby. Austin fell down a flight of stairs. He landed on concrete. The fall...” she hesitated. “The fall broke his neck.” She said and started sobbing. I didn't know what to feel. I had so many emotions running through that I couldn't pick one. I stood up and ran for the front door. I heard my mother yelling for me, but I was already out the door. I ran fast and hard.

I ran down to the field and kept going. I entered the woods and ran even faster, stepping on twigs and dry leaves. Finally, I came to an opening and when I went through, I realized I was on Vincent’s property. His house was much larger then ours and looked a lot newer. I could see his car in the driveway. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. What was I doing here? I can't throw this on him, I thought to myself. I started to turn around to go back home, when I heard a screen door open, then close. Vincent, who had a disc man and headphones over his ears came out of the house and walked over to a yard table to sit. I stood there for a moment not really knowing what to do, when he looked up and saw me standing in the distance. He stood up quickly and beckoned me over to him.

“Oh my god Claire. What's wrong?” he asked when I got close enough to see that something was wrong. “Sit down, and tell me what happened.” he told me and I sat.

“I'm sorry, Vincent. I didn't mean come here. I just started running and ended up here.”

“It's okay, just tell me what happened.” he said and I told him.

“Oh, Claire I'm so sorry. Where did it happen?” he asked.

“I don't know. I don't even know where he lived. I've barely had anything to do with him in a very long time. My parents split up when mom became pregnant with Rose,” I explained. “He was always drunk and when he found out about her being pregnant, he went on a rant saying the baby couldn't be his. He called her a w***e and all kinds of horrible things. Finally, after they had been arguing for a while, in his drunken stupor, he threw my mother across the room and left. I had to call an ambulance. She almost lost Rose then.” Now I started to cry. I wasn't crying for him. I was crying for the baby he almost killed, but she still died just a few short years later. I hoped the b*****d was in hell and told Vincent so.

“I don't blame you for how you feel. But the only father you'll ever have has just passed away. I'm not saying that you should forgive him, but I don't think it's healthy for you to have this kind of hatred for him.” he commented. Deep down I knew he was right, but at the moment I couldn't help but feel anything but anger. “Claire, I know what it's like to feel that way towards somebody, but you can't let anger consume you. If you do, it will eat you alive.”

“I know I shouldn't feel the way I do, but I don't know how else to feel about the man.”

“Well, do you remember anything good he did for you? Do you have any good memories of him at all?”

I hadn't thought about it in so long. There was a time when he wasn't so bad. He was actually a very loving, caring man at one point. I remembered the camping trips we took in the summer, when we were both so happy I would have never thought I would grow to have these feelings toward him. I remembered that every time I was sick, he would stay with me until I was better, even if it meant him getting sick himself. I remembered all the hugs and kisses we shared. Yes, there were some good memories I had of my father before he started drinking. I told Vincent all of my memories.

“Well, there.” he said. “ That's what you need to go on. Try to remember those times with your father. Try to remember him for the good things he did, not the bad.” he said. I suddenly felt very sad about my father's death, and started crying again. Vincent stood up and reached his hand out to me. I took it and he pulled me up. He pulled me to him and held me. I sobbed and cried so much my ribs ached. When my tears finally dried he released me.

“I'm sorry, Vincent. I didn't know where else to go.”

“It's okay, Claire. Everyone needs someone to go to at times like this” he said. He was looked around for a moment, like he was contemplating something. He looked back at me and said “Come on. Let's get out of here.”

“What? Where are we going?” I asked him.

“Let's just go for a drive.” he replied “We'll just ride around for a bit, then I'll drop you off. That sound okay?”

I thought for a moment. It would be nice to get away for a bit, and I really didn't want to go home. “Okay, sure. Why not?”

“Cool, let's go.” and we headed for his car.

We drove around for a while, with me pointing out the best routes to take for nice views. I remembered this spot that mom, dad and I went to for picnics when I was little, and asked Vincent if we could stop there for a bit. After a few turns the lake appeared. He parked the car and we stepped out. It was a pretty big lake that was secluded by the woods and was set away from any of the main roads. It's very peaceful here, I thought. We walked down toward the lake and sat down on the grass. I didn't want to talk about my father anymore so I started asking questions about him and his family.

“So what made you and your family decide to move here? I remember you said you moved from New York.”

“My father decided he didn't want to live in New York anymore, so he got a job at a hospital in Louisville.” he replied.

“Your father is a doctor?”

“Yep.” he said. Well, I guess that explains the expensive looking clothes and sports car.

“What about your mom?” I asked. His eyes darkened and her grew very quiet. He took so long to answer, I didn't think he was going to. Finally he said “My mother died during childbirth.”

“Oh, Vincent. I'm so sorry I had no idea.” I said with sincerity. “What happened?”

“Obstetrical hemorrhage,” he responded. “She lost to much blood and they couldn't do anything to stop it. She died about a half hour after I was born.” His eyes glazed over and I could see he was fighting back tears. A single tear betrayed him and slid down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly and glanced up at me.

“How horrible.” I gasped. “I didn't know. I'm so sorry.” he was looking down at the ground, his fingers playing in the grass. I grabbed his hand and held it. It looked up at me, astonished. After a moment he relaxed a bit, and allowed his own hand to grip mine.

We sat there for a long time, not speaking or moving. I realized we had been gone for a long time, and told Vincent we should head back. He stood up and held his hand out to help me up. We stood facing each other, his gaze was so intense it made my heart pound. Very slowly he brought his lips to mine. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was soft and warm. “I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have done that, but I couldn't help it.”

“It's OK. I'm glad you did.” I said and we kissed again. This time a bit longer. When we parted, he took me by the hand and we walked to his car.

It was after 8:30 by the time we pulled up in the driveway to my house. I was hesitant about going inside. I didn't want to face the inevitable. Why did my father have to be a drunk? Why couldn't he have been the father I needed and wanted? If he hadn't let his poison consume him, none of this would have happened. He and mom wouldn't have split up, and quite possibly wouldn't have died at age 39. I was in such a daze, I barely heard Vincent say my name.

“Claire, are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I just don't want to do this.” I said with a sigh.

“I know but you have to. It will all be over soon. And I'll be here to help you through it.” he promised and squeezed my hand reassuringly. I thanked him and started to get out of the car when he pulled me back. He kissed me softly and sweetly. When he pulled back he said. “ Okay, You'd better hurry up and get inside. Otherwise, we may just sit here all night. I wouldn't mind, but I think that would leave a bad impression on your mother.” he proclaimed. I laughed, said goodnight and got out of the car. He waited until I was inside before he pulled away.

“Claire?” I heard my mother call when I stepped inside and closed the door. She came rushing in from the kitchen. “Claire, where have you been? I've been sitting here worried about you for hours.” she exclaimed.

“I'm sorry, Mom. I needed sometime by myself to think.” I told her. “I didn't mean to worry you.”

“Well, we've got to get goin'. We need to leave in 20 minutes”

“Leave in an hour? Where are we going?”

“Mississippi. Your fathers funeral will be on Wednesday and your Aunt April wants us to be down there tomorrow”

“Oh.” I hadn't even thought about the funeral and being around relatives I had no interest in seeing. “Okay, I'll go get packed.” and I went upstairs with a terrible knot in my stomach.

I didn't want to see my father's family that hadn't shown any interest in me for years. I remember going to his parents home a couple times in Mississippi, and I didn't like being around them. They were always drinking and cussing and looked dirty to me. They lived in a little warn down shack with garbage and broke down cars all over there property. I remember the very pungent, stale odor in the house that was so strong that I had a hard time breathing inside. I told this to my father once before in front of my grandparents and Papaw John shot me an angry look and said “Ain't nothin' wrong wit' my house. If you don't like then you can f****n' leave. Mouthy little brat.” I felt so ashamed and dad didn't say anything, he just turned his eyes away and pretended he hadn't heard. I was only about 7 or 8 but this was when I started losing respect for my father. The fact that he couldn't stand up for me when someone treated me like that made me realize how small of a man he really was. Mamaw Mary wasn't as venom tongued toward me as Papaw John was, but her language was just as bad, if not worse.

The few times I did see them, they both looked so dirty that I wouldn't have been surprised if they hadn't showered in over a month. Their hair was so greasy that all they had to do was ran a hand over it and it would stay in place. I also remember the putrid stench of urine on there clothing, and couldn't couldn't even imagine how an adult person could live the way they do. I really hope they've cleaned themselves up since I saw them last, I thought to myself. I don't know if I could handle being around them if they hadn't.

I finished packing a couple bags, one containing my clothing and toiletries, and the other a some sketch pads with pens and pencils, and I headed back downstairs. Mom was already down there waiting with her own bags packed. “We need to get moving, Claire.” she exclaimed. “We've got a 10 hour drive ahead of us. and I would like to get as much distance as I possible before we have to stop.”

“I'm ready, Mom” and we left. We loaded the car with our things and headed out. I had so many things going through my mind that I couldn't hold on to a single thought. Too many things had happened today, and my mind kept bouncing from my fathers death and going to see family I wasn't thrilled about seeing, to Vincent and the time we had spent together tonight.

Author's Note

please forgive the grammar problems this is my rough draft lol