Katlyn Duncan - As You Lay Sleeping

A picture of me and Kat from the prom filled the screen. I took a steadying breath and picked up.

“I. Can’t. Believe. It,” Kat sobbed on the other end. Her words interrupted by sharp pulls of breath.

I lay back down on the bed, covering my eyes with my hand. Tears welled in my eyes and a few escaped before I wiped them away. “I’m so sorry, Kat.”

She sniffed, the sound thick and wet across the line. “The police said you found him.”

I made the mistake of closing my eyes and his face appeared. I tried to shake it off. “Yeah.”

“God! That must have been awful for you.”

“It was.” I sat up. I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep after this conversation. “When are you coming home?” I couldn’t do this alone.

She sniffed. “Dad scheduled our plane for this morning. God, I can’t believe this!” Another round of sobs sailed over the line. Flashes of Joe’s dead face punctured my vision and I couldn’t hold back my tears, either. “He had so much life to look forward to. Stanford in a few months. He didn’t deserve to die.”

“I know . . .” I trailed off.

She was right. He did have a lot to look forward to.

Someone knocked on my door, allowing me to briefly escape my haunting thoughts and reliving with Kat the horrific night I’d just endured. I was sure to do that again when she came home. At least I could compose my thoughts in the hours it took her to get home.

Mom poked her head into the room. “Sweetheart?”

I pointed to the phone and mouthed the word, “Kat.”

Mom nodded and said softly, “Breakfast is ready.” She left the room.

“Hang in there, Kat. Call me as soon as you land.” I slid off my bed and shoved my feet into my worn slippers.

“I will.” Someone spoke in the background on the other line. “I have to go,” she said after a moment of silence.

We said our goodbyes and I hung up first. I stood still, staring at the carpet, trying to build enough strength to make my legs move forward. I pushed my fingers through my tangled mess of hair. I didn’t have the energy to move, never mind care how I looked.

I walked around my bed and kicked something. A folded piece of paper flipped over, revealing my name. I sucked in a breath. The note Joe had written me. I’d forgotten all about it after I found him. I lifted it from the ground, pinched between my fingers like a broken shard of glass. I didn’t need to read it again to see the words in my mind’s eye. The words “All for you” repeated in my head.

I placed the note in my desk drawer and closed it. I wasn’t sure what to make of the message but it wasn’t as if Joe were alive to ask. Then, I took several steadying breaths before heading to the kitchen.

Chapter 4

Dad and Madison were sitting at the table when I arrived. I was surprised he wasn’t already at work.

“Hey, Carebear,” he said, turning in his chair. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Not really.”

Mom and Dad shared a look; something between pity and sadness.

For some reason, it annoyed me. I sat in my chair and tried to ignore whatever psychic conversation they were having.

Madison sniffed and I took a moment to look at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she stared at her hands. She hadn’t touched her food.

Mom placed a spoonful of scrambled eggs and a slice of toast on my plate. “Were you talking to Katherine?”

I pushed the eggs around my plate with the fork. “Yeah. She and her parents are coming home later today.”

“Well don’t worry about coming into the inn today,” Dad said. “I’m going into work late. Mom took the day off.”

I had no thought of going into the inn for work. “Thanks.”

“Deb,” Dad said to Mom, “I can take the day off, too.”

“You don’t have to,” I said quickly. It was enough that Mom was going to stalk me all day. I didn’t need the both of them on my case. I started to wish I’d never got out of bed. Even in death, Joe was still screwing with me. I immediately regretted the thought. And karma had a quick response, filling my mind with his face again. My stomach churned, even though it was empty.

I managed to swallow a few bites of toast before it settled.

“Cara,” Mom said. “We told Madison about what happened.” She gave me a look that seemed to add, “. . . sparing your delicate fourteen-year-old sister the gory details.”

“Why would he do that himself?” Madison asked. “Is it because you were ignoring his phone calls?”

Three sets of eyes trained on me.

My cheeks burned.

Mom put her coffee cup down on the table. “Cara, is this true? Why were you ignoring his phone calls?”

I blinked. “I wasn’t.”

“Why did Madison say you were?” Dad interjected.

I couldn’t tell them I planned on breaking up with Joe. Why did Madison have to be such a brat? It didn’t help that she blamed me. His death wasn’t my fault but that didn’t stop the guilt from coiling around my stomach and squeezing, unsettling it once again.

I stared down at my plate. “I don’t know. Maybe she should mind her own business.”

“Cara!” Mom warned.

Why were they ganging up on me? I slammed my fork down on the table. “What, Mom? I find my dead boyfriend and you all are accusing me of having something to do with it?”

Dad reached a hand out to me. “We weren’t—”

“You were,” I said pointedly to Madison. “I don’t need to talk to you about this. What do you know about anything?”

She shrank into her chair and tears flowed down her face.

My throat tightened. I could have put it all out there. I could have told them everything about Joe’s and my relationship. About his recreational-drug use and underage drinking. Speaking ill of the dead would only make me feel better. And I was sure another lecture would follow about the possibility of my taking part in those activities. I didn’t, but I wasn’t prepared for that headache.

“I’m going to my room,” I said, shoving the chair away from the table. I didn’t look at either of my parents or my traitorous sister. Tears hovered in the corners of my eyes, making my vision blur.

I entered my room, kicked the door closed, and went over to my desk. I crossed my arms and studied my photographs. The happy, grinning Cara from only a few weeks ago had no idea what turn her life would take. I unpinned the traditional prom photo of me and Joe. To everyone else, we seemed perfect. It was the picture I took two years to paint for the world to see. I briefly wondered if it had been worth all of it.

While I was in the shower later that morning, the doorbell rang. Twice in quick succession. Kat was still on her way home. Maybe it was Rachael and Brittany. I quickly finished up and wrapped a towel around my body. While I didn’t want to talk to my parents about what happened with Joe, I wanted to talk to someone. More specifically, my best friends. I was surprised they came over. Unlike Joe, the girls rarely came over. My house was the smallest out of the group and we found it easier to gossip without Madison and my parents in the next room. Most of the time we met at Kat’s. Her room was the farthest down one of the wings with a view of the pool house, giving us the privacy we needed.

I met Mom in the hallway. Her hands were clasped in front of her as if she were praying.

“Is it Rachael and Brittany? Give me a second to change—”

“It’s not,” she interrupted and lowered her voice. “There’s a detective here to speak with you.”

My heart leaped. “W-why is there a detective here?”

“To ask you questions about last night.”

“I already told the other policemen what happened.” What else could I possibly say?

“He promised it wouldn’t take long. I guess this is normal since you were the one to find Joe.” Mom’s voice hitched. I couldn’t bear more people crying in front of me. “You should speak to him so we can all move on.”