Minder

Chapter 8

OLALLIE

Junior year started, and my evil twin siblings were seniors. There is no tattle-telling to Knox about what the twins did to me when I first arrived. However, Leonie is some sort of sorcerer, and she conducted a family meeting to ease the peace.

“Kalonie, what were you thinking?” Leonie stands guard between us, a barrier no one dares to knock down.

“I don’t know; maybe she would just run away. Go back to whatever back woods hole she climbed out of.” I look over to see Calhoun stare at me like he is worried that his twin might be leading him down the wrong path for the first time.

“Where? This is her home now. She has no other residency except this one. Should we contact the aunts that wanted to erase her?” Leonie is searching for a dignified answer, not an immature one.

My aunts, I wonder where they have gone. How their lives continue, with the absence of my mother. How nice it must feel to not carry around her death like a suffocating souvenir.

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask?” Kalonie shrugs with her comment.

“Sometimes, I worry you are mentally incompetent. Does acting stupid reap more benefits?” The thought actually makes our oldest sister curious.

Knox arrives, kisses Leonie on her head, hugs Calhoun, and waves to me, nodding to Kalonie to finish his greeting. In that order, of his love and affection.

“Why do you talk to me like that?” A screech from Kalonie makes it almost impossible to leave my implants plugged in.

“Like what exactly?” Leonie is a brainy bunch of brilliance.

“See! Exactly! You aren’t better than us, just because you skipped three grades and decided to get a few degrees before you turned eighteen.” Kalonie screeches, and I am glad I don’t have to be blessed to hear that sound for very long.

“I mean, in some areas; statistically, it does.” Her comeback made light of the situation, even though she isn’t joking.

“Not helping, Leonie.” This comes from Cal, who has shifted all sights on the carpet. I wonder if he is thinking of Samson.

“What about Asher?” My mom and him would still be together if she was alive. The perfect plan of rescue. Yes, I think this will be an ideal opportunity for everyone.

“He’s gone, Olallie.” Knox is staring at his phone.

“Where did he go? Could you contact Denver? Maybe he knows where Asher got assigned?” It isn’t the first time I wished upon my lucky stars to be back with Asher. At least his anger justified my sadness; we were both missing the only person who accepted us.

It is the first time I have had the confidence to voice my request to Knox. I would never dare bother him with being a father; I am sure it is an inconvenience for him already.

“Olallie, he went on a mission. Asher came back, but in a body bag.” Knox Krause didn’t have emotions; his expressions pierced all over his stone-cold face, all feelings inactive.

Gone? I had gotten used to Asher being gone, but I didn’t even think he could be dead. If it takes two to tango, then does it cause a third party to hold onto all their broken hearts?

“Dad! You can’t let her talk to me like I’m—I’m some retard!” Again, the volume is way too loud in Kalonie’s voice.

“Are you sure?” My voice is aimed at our sperm donor.

“Leonie, deal with Kalonie. I have a migraine. Yes, Olallie, I am sure, would you like to see the proof of the paperwork?” Knox rubs his head, handing the parenting over to Leonie.

“You tried to get rid of me?” It shouldn’t hurt, it doesn’t, I remind myself, because he doesn’t know who I have been without him.

He flips his head directly at me this time, offended by the accusation.

“No, Olallie, I didn’t try to get rid of you. Sometimes at night, you talk in your sleep. Your nightmares were bad the first few months after Luna died. Asher, his name was the one you always called out for. So, I tried to find him, maybe he could help you. But by the time I did, it was too late, and that’s why you went to Texas. Because I didn’t know how to heal you from losing another person.” Knox’s confession makes me believe there might be significant in him.

It could be he wants to give parts of Luna some of his grace if she resides within me. I wonder if he worries his fate will be like the others. If we were cataloging deaths around me and the ratio of survival rates. It wasn’t a promising figure.

But I shouldn’t worry him; if anybody was going to be next, I would make sure it would be me.

~

I opened the door and found myself staring at Lawson. I see him first, but I feel him early also like good things in life. He is in mid-conversation and stops, knowing something unique is happening.

Lawson looks up and around, passing over me once twice, and then he locks eyes with my aqua jewels, and there you have it, he feels me too.

We are in a zone alone from different atmospheres for 30 seconds, and that's all it takes to take our breaths away.

Today I woke up and thought I'd fall in love with the day. Maybe with artwork or a good book, but not with an actual person. See, people don't notice me like you would assume they would. I was the odd one out in my family. Yet, the occurrence was primarily based on avoiding differences.

Lawson is here, though.

We don't necessarily smile at each other. Because here on out, we know we'll be in each other's lives. Committed to one another.

He strides up to me, never breaking eye contact. If I were a nervous person, this would be the point where I would blush and turn away. But I do the opposite and stand my ground.

The teenage boy stands in front of me. No gulp down his throat, making his Adam apple signal for help.

He cups my face in one hand and kisses me with an electric pull. Intuitive, that's what they tell me I am. If it is correct, then I am in the right place.

“Lawson.” I know.

“Olallie.” He knows.

“I'll see you later.” His eyes were lazy enough to leave.

“You will.” Thus begins our journey into a land of broken promises, all based on wishful thinking and unchanged behaviors.

My mother once signed me a series of complicated phrases. As if I was rehearsing a speech, and she was the voice in my head to speak freely.

She would practice every day in a subtle way that showed me her expression. Sometimes, I caught her fingers spelling out words and gesturing to terms I wasn’t allowed to say or repeat.

Luna Lovett had one love, and it wasn’t herself. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t my real father, Lennox. It was him—Asher Rainer.

Have you ever met someone so out of place in the world that you can tell by looking at them they were born in the wrong universe?

Asher was like that. Luna alongside him, they were precisely that description. He went against rules of regulations. Disobeyed the land of the law. While flat out ignoring the hints of social interaction. And he was partially deaf, a common bond between yours truly.

My mother and father were of the hearing specimens. Her parents, however, passed their genetics down to me. There was a struggle in my mother, Luna’s life. She was uncomfortably sane. Easygoing with a spark for spontaneity, bold with bluntness in every verb.

It was times like this when I stared down at her faded headstone that I wondered what her purpose in life really was. What are any of our true potentials are.

It is a sweet irony that she fell in love with a man who could not fully hear her. Seemingly because, her whole life, she tried to avoid those individuals. Her parents, her daughter. Yet, she was an interpreter for the hearing impaired.

The first memory I have of my mother is one I cherish always. I was a waddling toddler, and she hadn’t yet seen me walk. She burst through the door, and at first, I was frightened. But then I stared at her, and something in me connected with the glow around her.

Luna fell to her knees and held her arms open. Smiling while tears blessed and cleansed her cheeks. I swayed my arms back and forth, making my steps count as I walked to her. And she held so firmly on to me, I thought she would never let go.

Time with my mother was a short glimpse in the span of my memory. I only had her for 2 ½ years. That was all we were allocated to belong as mother and daughter. Before her, the very purpose was resolved, and I became another child passed to another family.

An orphan left to wander.

I looked patiently at my course schedule—Home Education for two periods. I silently high-fived myself. I couldn’t be happier.

“You look like Alice in Wonderland.” A goth chick stared at me, glancing over my outfit.

“Is she in a band?” Trying to grasp her reference.

“What’s your name, Alice?” She smiled.

“Olallie.” Even my name seems like a prayer I am not pure enough to pronounce.

“Awe, the secret Krause love child. Daddy couldn’t seem to keep it in his pants when he robbed your momma’s cradle, huh?” I squint my eyes as the goth girl exploits my parents' affair the way it was.

“Xandra, shut up. Leave the little blonde alone.” Lawson came toward me, sat behind me, and never looked in my direction again.

“Oh my gosh! Is it fate that all you Sonny boys fall for this pretentious Krause kids?” Xandra doesn’t stop, reeling in the drama.

“I’m not a Krause.” I need to separate myself from them as much as I can.

“Really? What miracle happened to you?” Xandra’s eyes perk up with interest.

“I’m a Lovett. Abandonment and then death.” Too much honesty can kill a person; maybe that is my goal all along.

“Cool. Really cool.” And I think Xandra honestly means it.

“Thanks.” Mumbling under my fresh minty breath.

“Where they been hiding you, angel?” The conversation keeps going, and I don’t think she will be satisfied with any detail that doesn’t have trauma attached.

Lawson listens quietly, wanting to know the gore and horror I have to share.

“You don’t need to call me an angel. My mom used to call me Halo.” I tug on a blonde curl before tucking it behind my ear.

“Well, halo, where was your wonderland?” Xandra and I are not meant to be friends. I know this the minute she delights in my suffering. Kalonie does the same.

“Dripping Springs, Texas.”

“That explains the accent and the pretty girl getup. What’s that behind your ear?” Another poke to my appearance.

I fumble with my hair to cover up the device, hoping the perfectly round curls cover the wire and small microchip. I look down at my seat and pick at the wooden graffiti desk. Scrawled with the names of past users. Maybe even victims of the hearing world.

“A present from Lennox Krause.”

“What’s with the note writing? This isn’t second grade.” She mildly shouts in my ear.

I tap my ear twice, and she looks confused, so I turn away. I can speak. I can talk. I guess I can hear what others say. But some days, I get sick of explaining, sick of listening to a world I have a hard time belonging to.

Heat makes me turn my head to the man they call Lawson. His eyes penetrate me. They glare, and they judge. I don’t try to smile because I didn’t wake up to Miss Callie demanding our manners. I hear a sudden slam next to me, and I shift and hold my breath, but I refuse to look.

He must sense my fear as he stares behind me but takes my hand, covering it. Not saying anything until the teacher comes to class and asks for our attention.

He turns forward but keeps rotating to make sure I am still there. Still breathing.