Disclaimer: The BSC is not mine. You couldn’t make me claim ownership.

It is in the nature of humans to change their mind. In their song Calling All Angels, Train once said, “All we want is only what we want until it’s ours.” True in so many respects – people get married to the ‘love of their life’, only to divorce a few years later. A second chance comes along, and a few years more go by – then, suddenly, the other shoe drops. History is a vicious cycle.

I never thought I’d miss Carol.

I never thought I’d be so ashamed of my father. It’s one thing to cheat on your wife – it’s a completely different matter to tell her how she only had herself to blame. How his girlfriend could give him what she couldn’t. Never mind that not only was Carol recovering from going into premature labour from a child that was supposed to be impossible, but that she lost the baby as well.

My father claims that he was acting out because of his grief. All I could think about in the days following the blow up was my mother’s voice four years ago, calling me selfish, immature and all those words from when I flew to Connecticut without permission. About how Jeff told me later how Dad called Carol those things in their fight while I was gone. And in thinking about those days so long ago, I wondered when my father had become the world’s biggest hypocrite.

It was meeting the girlfriend that drove Carol over the edge. It wasn’t the fact that she was young, about four years younger than her, but that she looked strikingly like my mother. I don’t know why my father couldn’t see it – everyone else did. Maybe he just pretended it was a coincidence. He’s been doing a lot of pretending lately. He pretends he doesn’t feel guilty about what happened – at least, I hope he’s pretending. Guilt would mean that someday, I might forgive him. I might be able to look at him with something other than disgust and horror, and even the slightest bit of hatred.

And until then, I will be somewhere that I don’t have to look at him.

The day before my plane left for Connecticut, I went to see Carol. It was hard walking up those steps, going through the cast-iron gates. It was the first time since the actual funeral I had been to see her – the first time in four months. I hadn’t been able to deal with the memories until now, and even at the moment I wasn’t sure I could handle it. Still, I knelt down beside her grave and cleared my throat awkwardly.

“Hey Carol… sorry I haven’t been up here. I know Jeff came here last month before he went off to that boarding school in San Diego. I remember how proud you were when he got accepted with a partial scholarship. He misses you… I guess I do too.” My voice broke momentarily and I had to stop talking for a minute to blink back tears. I was tired of crying, and I was a bit shocked my tear supply hadn’t run out by this point. I swallowed hard and continued, “I’m leaving again. I know I said that this move was final, but… I can’t stand it. She’s at the house all the time – sorry, you probably don’t want to hear that. I just can’t stand being in the same house as the two of them, especially now that Jeff’s gone. I only stayed this long because of Gracie, but now that your mother has her… Carol, I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t even sure what I was apologizing for. I felt like I was running out on her, even though she wasn’t here anymore. No matter what I did, I felt like it was my fault. Like, if I had been home more often, if I had been stronger for her, then Jeff and I wouldn’t have walked in on… I let out a soft cry and shook my head, getting up and sprinting from the cemetery. I still couldn’t face it. Not now, maybe not ever.

The next morning, I was on a plane. I had been on many planes in my life, always going to the same place. Ever since the divorce, I had seen Stoneybrook as a safe haven, a place to run to when things got too tough. No matter how much I denied it, it would always be a sanctuary, somewhere that I could go to hide from the world. Never had I seen it as an actual home. As I stepped off the plane and into my mother’s embrace, I wondered if it could ever become anything more than a last resort.

The ride home was not surprising. Mary Anne wasn’t there, as she hadn’t been for the past two years when I came for vacations. Richard had opted out this time as well, which disappointed me a little, but altogether didn’t shock me. My mother chattered nervously, although I’m not sure why. In the past, she knew that she only had a few weeks to ‘play nicely’ with me, but this time, there wasn’t anything she could possibly do to send me running back to my father. She didn’t mention Mary Anne or Richard at all except to make skittish apologies for their absence. I wondered if she would apologize if she knew the reason why Mary Anne and I sit through time together in cold silence. I wondered if she knows that Mary Anne isn’t the only one who can hold a grudge.

I was suddenly gripped and I had to take a moment to mentally shake myself. I’ve avoided this place as much as possible for the last two years, and now it’s the only house I have left to turn to. It almost makes me laugh how instead of going to the place I feel safest in my time of need, I’m now merely forced to choose between the lesser of two evils. And it takes me a moment to get over the irony that my father has replaced my step-sister as that evil. When did my life get so screwed up?

I didn’t have long to contemplate this question, since my mother stepped out of the car and gave me a questioning look. I pulled myself together, something I found I had to do more and more often these days, and followed her dutifully into the house after picking up my suitcases from the back of the car. With a nod in Richard’s direction and a tight, forced smile to my step-sister, I ran upstairs, suitcases in tow. Needless to say, I was winded when I got to the top of the stairs, but it was worth not having to feel the lingering gaze of that brunette traitor downstairs.

Author’s Note: Yes, it’s pretty short, but it’s only the first chapter. I’m surprised I wrote this much, as I’m horribly sick. Still, forgive the lack of content and any discernable plot yet – it’ll all come together soon. Any guesses about Mary Anne this early on?