The Echoes of Shadows

What could my mother do this time? Because the last time I got a frantic call from Jarod, a year and a half ago, she had attempted suicide and told me afterward that she had made it up to get attention. I clenched my fists, remembering how she had mocked me for being so naive, so stupid, so hasty. “Always quick to please,” she said in her thick accent. Then she took a long drag on her cigarette that must have been the unspeakable thing to do. I pushed all thoughts of my mother away for a moment and gave Maddie a fake smile. “Are you going out tonight? ” » The answer was obvious. It was Friday night, and even though I could only see her upper body, I could tell she was dressed very elegantly. Perfect hair and makeup, check. Strapless red dress that was probably no longer than my shirt, check. Her high heels made me say “f**k,” so I double checked. “Pioneer with Ben, Stacy, and Micah. ” Her perfectly arched jet-black eyebrows furrowed as she parted her lips to say something else. I shook my head defiantly, and she covered my mouth. We both knew his invitation was unnecessary. No amount of sweet talk would convince me to leave the apartment tonight. There was a good chance that what Jarod was about to tell me would ruin my evening and the rest of my year. I swallowed, over and over, trying my best to get rid of the burning sensation at the back of my mouth. “That’s it,” Maddie exclaimed. She reached across the counter for her phone. “I’m calling to cancel—” But I lunged forward and snatched the phone from his hand. I dropped the crumpled—and now almost fused—pile of letters next to his empty glass. “Please… don’t do this. ” You're too sexy to spend the night with me. I swear it'll be fine. » She didn't seem convinced as her full lips pursed into a thin red line. I slid his phone into his hand and wrapped his fingers around it. I smiled wider and told him in the happiest voice I could muster that I was having a good time. She said, objecting to me, but I could barely make out what she was saying. I was walking down the narrow hallway to my room, my phone clutched in a metal grip. Jarod picked up on the second ring as I closed the bedroom door behind me. On the rare occasions we spoke, he always sent my calls to voicemail and then returned them five or six hours later. This was really not good. “Thank God,” he hissed before I could utter a syllable. “Where have you been, Si? ” And why don’t I have that number? ” Less than ten seconds into our conversation, Jarod argued with me. I threw my oversized bag onto the bed. My wallet, a pile of tampons, and makeup spilled onto the lavender cotton sheets and some onto the carpeted floor. I'll clarify the situation later. "I'm at work. And I've tried calling you from this number several times. You didn't answer. » I didn't look angry, that's what I felt, but I felt like I was explaining to my brother. Like I was the one who should be sorry because he ignored me. I hated myself for saying that. “Elena, it’s Grandma,” he said. And that was when I really froze in place, standing between the bed and the desk. I must have looked like one of those grim, solemn statues in the cemeteries back home. I felt like my heart had stopped beating. The first thing I thought when Maddie told me Jarod was trying to reach me was that my mom was in trouble again. I hadn't even thought about my grandmother because she was so strong, so resilient, so amazing. She was 79 years old, too. I tried to say something, anything, but a lump the size of a golf ball that tasted like lint was blocking my throat. I was choking and having trouble breathing when Jarod finally let out an exasperated sigh and said dryly, "She's fine, Si. Well, physically fine. " » Then he told me what was going on. He said things like foreclosure and eviction notice. The new owner: a shitty musician from California. The trial was on Monday. And then he told me I had to be there for her, for him. "I have to work," I whisper. I can't imagine what Tomas will say if I ask for time off for anything besides a funeral or the certain impending demise of an immediate family member. He might fire me. Or worse, he might give me a horrible reference and I'll never get another wardrobe job for the rest of my life. "No, you've got to be here." "Jarod, I can't just . . ." But I'm already sitting in front of my laptop with my online bank statement pulled up on one tab and a discount ticket website on another. I'm already entering in my debit card information for an early Monday morning flight, biting down so hard on my lower lip I taste blood. I'm broke. Half of what's in my account - half of my total savings - will have to go to Maddie for my share of the bills. And before I hang up with my little brother, I'm already shoving my belongings inside of the beaten Coach suitcase my grandparents gave me five years ago as an eighteenth birthday present. It's mind-numbingly cold in Nashville - 33 degrees to be precise - and snowing lightly when I scoot into Jarod's messy Dodge pick-up truck on Monday afternoon. From the way I'm sweating, though, you would think it were the middle of August and that I'd arrived in Nashville dressed in head to toe wool. The flutter sleeve top I so carefully selected because it makes me look professional clings to my skin and the tops of my thigh high tights sag to just above my knees. The sudden spike in perspiration is my own fault - I spent the entire four hour flight from California fretting over how I'd convince Gram to come back to L.A. with me. And the more I thought about it, the more doubtful I became. My granddad had built her that cabin and land as a gift after my mother was born in the early seventies. There's no way in hell Gram's giving it up without a fight, even though from what Jarod has said, the house is already gone. "What'd your boss say?" my brother asks as he turns onto the interstate. He slams on the brakes to avoid hitting another car. The Dodge skids on the slippery road, jostling us around, but Jarod manages to get the truck under control halfway into my frantic gasp. Jarod doesn't so much as flinch. He squints straight ahead, the same way our dad does when he drives in crappy weather, and rubs the tips of his thumbs on either side of the steering wheel - another Dad trait. With his dark blonde hair, brown eyes, and year-round tan that puts my easily-burnt skin to shame, Jarod even looks like Dad now. "You going to answer me or just sit there with your mouth wide open?" Digging my hands into the hem of the dark tweed pencil skirt I'm wearing, I shrug. "I worked through Christmas and New Year, so he didn't have much of a problem. Besides, I'm just an assistant." I don't add that I had to beg Tomas for the time off and that he'd pointedly said I better take care of my family drama and have my ass back in L.A. before the end of the month - two and a half weeks. "Echo Falls is ranked first in females aged 18 to 34. There are people willing to trade their own offspring for a chance to work on this series. That being said, replacing you with a new wardrobe person who covets his career won't be too hard a feat," Tomas had said, punching something into the iPad he carried around everywhere. He never even spared me a glance so when he shoved a newly inventoried wardrobe rack against a brick slab wall, he didn't see me startle. "Don't force me to find that person, Calloway." "I'll wrap it up in two weeks, Tomas," I'd promised. "You better." Telling Jarod any of that is simply a waste of oxygen. He would either not get why I can't neglect my job whenever I please or simply not care. Knowing my brother, it would be the second. "Got anything I can wipe my face with?" I ask. Thinking about my job has me sweating even worse than before. "Center console." I find a package of wet wipes in between a half-empty 30-count box of condoms and a completely empty bottle of Jose Cuervo. Before I can stop myself, I whirl on him and blurt, "I hope you're not stupid enough to drink and drive. You're only nineteen and you - " "Don't start, Si, okay? Today isn't a good day for your bitching. "