What Happened In Between

By LJ Scar

I was supposed to go to a support group the night I met him. I did, just not the right one. Why? Because I didn't want to talk about what happened. I didn't want to say my name is Laken and when I was sixteen I ran away. Away from a mother I looked like but never wanted to replicate. Away from the danger she brought into our home.

Now I'm in college, living with my ex's grandma as a caregiver, feeling a little lost, and experiencing a lot of doubts... some about him. He will give me hope, affect me like a rock star, makes promises he won't keep, and become one of my closest friends. With him I'm going to make mistakes, reveal my secrets, learn some lessons, let others come between us, and let it all go. Because it isn't what happened to me, it is What Happened In Between.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LJ Scar
• Release date: Feb 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781496111890

Book preview

Chapter 1

Do not make eye contact! Do not make eye contact!

Can I help you? A frizzy haired woman held a sign with OSA in bold black letters indicating the group location.

Peering past her into the room gave me a glimpse. The hanging heads and the stooped shoulders indicated defeat. Shaking my head no, I hurried past, pulled my baseball cap a little lower, and tucked my blonde ponytail under the collar of my jacket. As if I knew what I was doing, I entered the following room.

Taking in my surroundings, I did some hasty mental notes:

- Six rows of four seats until the aisle

- Small gathering, currently, seven people

- Intentional non-sitting in side-by-side formation by attendees

- COA doubly noted on door and front dry erase board

I decided on a chair in the last row, an aisle, easiest for exiting/escaping.

A straggler, disheveled and cute with wavy dark brown hair dressed in faded jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with Keep Calm and Rock On excused himself in front of my seat. One of his shoes caught the side of my chair resulting in a loose expletive flying from his mouth. I stifled the urge to laugh as he took the seat two down from me.

An older man rose, closed the door, and addressed the group. I see some new faces tonight. Just so everyone is in the right place this is the weekly meeting of Children of Alcoholics. You can be anonymous if you choose. However, if you talk we’ll need a name. Make it up if you feel the need.

The abbreviation’s meaning was not what I expected. I started fidgeting, wondering how bad it would look if I got up and left. Resigning myself to endure the hour meeting, I slouched down in my seat.

A kid rose, gangly and unsure. Hesitant, he said, Hi, I’m John.

Hi John, the chorus of greetings startled me.

My mom fell off the wagon this week. His voice strangled a little as he started to cry. Monday night she brought home a liter of rum and some dude named Clint to share it with.

The room became achingly quiet except for John’s muffled sobs.

The older guy placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. Has your mom sobered up yet?

I don’t know. She left on Tuesday and I haven’t seen her since. As he inhaled sucking in air, the breath caught on the snot and tears leaking down his face.

My sweatshirt cuffs pulled over my hands, I hastily wiped my wet cheeks before anyone could see.

Have you called your dad?

Yeah, he is coming to get me tonight, John blubbered.

I tried to disconnect, watching the wall clock’s second hand struggling to pass the spaces between five-minute intervals. Zoning out worked on many occasions for me.

My name is Monica, a brunette in a business suit, mid-thirties courageously spoke.

On cue the room echoed, Hello Monica.

The Topamax didn’t work as long as I hoped. He thinks I don’t know but I can smell the alcohol coming out of his pores. He carries around that coffee cup as if it is a childhood blanket. Never puts the damn thing down. I can’t even let my kids out of my sight at his house. My youngest daughter loves coffee. I keep thinking she’ll sneak a big swill from his cup when he isn’t looking and choke to death on vodka laced java. Her own nervous giggles signaled she had finished.

Distracted by the guy near me, I zoned as he multi-body tasked crouching forward with his elbows on his knees, picking at his nails, tapping his foot without making a sound. His vein raised hands and forearms mesmerized me.

Finally, the hour was up.

In the parking lot, the damp cold felt good compared to the heat of frustration, anger and despair shared within the room. Ahead of me my Jeep beckoned, the lone vehicle under a streetlamp illuminating the spaces. I slid in the passenger seat and my key found home. As the starter went click, click, click my thoughts went crap, crap, crap!

I closed my eyes thinking, what are the odds you’ll be attacked in a parking lot at a community center filled with well-intentioned groups? I hopped out of the driver’s seat before rounding the fender, and with one deft movement lifted the hood and braced it with the support bracket. I checked all the fluid levels – good, pushed in all wire and hose connections – good. I went back to crank it with a prayer. Click, click, click.

Do you need some help?

Startled, I flinched.

The guy from class had one of his dream worthy hands positioned on my open door. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.

I recovered enough to answer his first question, No problem, I’m a little jumpy.

He smiled.

In answer to your question, yeah, I could use some help.

I was barely out of my seat before he was bent over the Jeep’s grill and fumbling with the battery cables.

When was the last time you got a battery? he asked rubbing at the white corrosive dust covering the connections.

I’ve never, maybe the previous owner two years ago, I suggested feeling stupid for not knowing the answer.

How about I give you a jump and we see if that works?

When I nodded, he walked off between other cars hidden in the outlying darkness.

A sedan with a truck bed drove into the parking spot in front of the Jeep. The vehicle was rusting and damaged with the passenger side gouged for six feet from the quarter panel to the passenger door, no side mirror and dangling a Subaru Baja emblem. He emerged and began hooking battery cables between vehicles.

Go ahead and crank your Jeep.

I did as he instructed. The engine hesitated but started. As the battery charged, we stood silent between the narrow space of bumpers and engines, me awkwardly trying to think of something to say, him smiling hopefully not at my incompetence.

You could drive from here straight to the auto parts store. I could go with you, he offered.

Thanks but I’ll just go to the one over by the mall and get it taken care of.

He disconnected the cables. Both of our vehicles continued running.

I’m Seth by the way. Seth Kintner.

Laken Harrison. We shook on the introduction. Thanks for helping me.

Anytime.

We both got in our respective rides. He waited for me to turn on my headlights, and shift into gear before he flicked his brights twice. I took that as his goodbye.

I drummed my fingers impatiently waiting on the nightly call from my long-distance boyfriend. He had embarked on his first year of college while I remained stuck back in high school.

With closed eyes, I tried to psych myself up. Lately the brief chats were becoming forced on his part, leaving me feeling insecure when they ended. Trust was hard for me. Ian and I had been something before the assault - before I ran away. When I returned home, I was broken both emotionally and financially...he had introduced me to his grandmother, Mary, who offered me stability, fleeting stability. He’d given me a solution. Assisting his elderly grandma gave her the ability to remain semi-independent and evade nursing home care. For me getting to live with someone as wonderful as Mary had been like winning the lottery...only her grandson got to keep my ticket in his hands.

The phone rang.

How’d it go? he asked with genuine concern.

He was referring to the meeting- I couldn’t tell him I hadn’t gone. He thought I needed emotional support from others who shared similar experiences. I didn’t. Mostly because I had managed to block what happened from my mind. I’m in observation-only mode for now.

You didn’t talk?

No, there is another meeting later in the week. I might muster up some courage to speak then. Background music drifted over the line reminiscent of the Counting Crows, along with multiple muffled voices. As Ian grew distracted, I took the opportunity to switch the subject. Mary’s blood pressure has been out of whack. Your mom is taking her to the doctor tomorrow.

Someone in his room was speaking, and I heard Ian respond, Cool.

Gritting my teeth, I tried not to let his lack of attention irritate me. The sound grew louder. My dog Kona perked his ears as Ian yelled into the phone, Listen, I’ve got to go. Remind Mom about Saturday. I can’t wait to see you and take you to your first college party.

Okay, I replied lacking enthusiasm.

Gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow.

Sure. Love you. He had disconnected before ‘love you’ got out of my mouth.

Laying my head back on a pillow, lousy with loneliness, I rubbed Kona’s soft fawn and white fur. Picturing Ian’s green-flecked eyes and golden brown hair I asked aloud, What do you think he is up to?

No answer from the dog.

Yeah, I know that’s what I was thinking.

I called my best friend Mandy.

How’d it go? she asked the same question as Ian.

I didn’t go. I crashed a Children of Alcoholic’s group meeting.

Whyyyyyy? She drew out the word for emphasis.

I chickened out.

I can get that but why choose an AA support group when your mom was not an alcoholic?

They didn’t have a meeting for Children of Lousy Mothers, who sleep with even lousier men.

She audibly sighed and broached a new subject. What are you wearing to school tomorrow?

I could hear the clang of metal hangers as she moved clothes around in her overflowing closet.

Why do you ask me that? You know I only wear jeans and a T-shirt. Tomorrow my T-shirt will be black, and my jeans will be faded.

I grabbed my little black book- not the kind with phone numbers and addresses. Putting my pen to the journal, I just stopped. It was happening again. Inability to communicate, I had a writer’s block of epic emotions. I flipped through my last month’s sparse and not so awe-inspiring entries. At least five only had one word written on the page.

Empty

Chapter 2

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High school, what could I say? Halls filled with witnesses of my fall from grace, teachers who saw potential but watched for failure, and the caged energy pulsing from hundreds of students fighting their own struggle. I didn’t fit in. I hated it, but unless you were skating on a social high who didn’t? Thank God I was an accelerated senior, graduating in December, and halfway through the fall semester.

Excitement for college made me dream of what January offered. University life consisting of dorm living and going Greek wasn’t going to be my experience, but it would still be a completely different world than previously known to me. Familiar yet new, a city campus no more than ten miles from every place I had ever lived.

Scraping together enough money to pay tuition had been a challenge. Every hour I could spare from school and Mary had been spent tutoring. Every child support check my absentee father had sent I’d deposited. When the bill came for the eighteen hours of courses I’d registered for I’d paid it outright. Now I had a full schedule Monday and Wednesday and a lone two-hour class on Friday.

Keeping one eye on the road, one hand on the steering wheel, and the other on the gearshift I drove Ian’s sport car north from Louisville through the hills of Indiana. My last visit had been the day he’d moved up a week prior to fall semester. Accompanying his overwrought mother and aggravated father, we lugged multiple boxes up the stairs instead of the overcrowded elevator.

The lot he had indicated I should park the car was easily found. Shutting off the engine, I took a deep breath and called him. Trying to disguise the worry in my voice, I left a light message stating I had arrived. Leaning my hip against the door, I surveyed the students walking past. Flannelled grunge, Greek lettered sweatshirt wearers, the purposeful foreign students, and one girl finger carrying a pair of heels in a rumpled party dress.

Familiar hands slipped around my waist and I jumped in sheer fright.

You feel good, Ian murmured against the back of my neck.

Trying to steady my accelerated heartbeat, I took a few deep breaths and turned into his embrace. The hint of perfume clung to his clothes. Before I could speak, he bent his head and grazed my lips with his own. He sighed. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.

I swallowed my doubts and shook my head. You didn’t. I gave him what I thought was a convincing smile. I gestured to the buildings surrounding me. How about a tour of campus? I asked.

He hesitated. "Maybe later. At night with the buildings and pathways lit it is prettier. I’ve already scouted out where we can sneak into some abandoned stone quarries. You know, do a little Breaking Away remake. He held up a basket. I packed a picnic."

A memory of the last time we’d made out surfaced. We’d been in the backseat of his dad’s Beamer with the car DVD player running the movie in the background.

Sounds good but I didn’t bring a swimsuit. My mind pictured the actors cliff jumping into the fathomless depths of stone-excavated holes filled with water.

He smiled lifting my hair from my shoulder to rest his hand underneath. We don’t have to...I just want to be alone with you.

A short drive later, we parked the car behind an abandoned barn. Clutching hands, he led me down an endless gravel trail crossing no less than ten No Trespassing signs. We became surrounded by the hulled out gorge of limestone quarries.

I stared up to where the beginning of the cliffs encircling us met the cloudless blue sky. At ground level, enormous stones and crushed gravel gave way to a milky aquamarine colored lake.

Ian laid a blanket across a slab of limestone that jutted out in the water before emptying the basket of cold fried chicken and a couple of beers. He opened mine. Only the best for my girl, he teased.

I smiled as I ate. Last night he’d been in a bad mood over the grade he was getting in his psychology class. Did you e-mail the professor like you said?

He nodded. Yeah, he told me to take it up with him during office hours. He drained his beer and tossed the remains of a drumstick into the brush.

I was sitting cross-legged. He settled back with his head in my lap. Lightly he stroked my calf. Did you miss me? he whispered pulling my head down into an awkward position. We kissed uncomfortably until the crook in my neck gave me an excuse to reclaim my spine.

He smiled. So how was your second group meeting? You find your courage?

I nodded pretending to study the water. I hadn’t gone back.

Good. He bunched up the blanket and moved his head to rest there, patting the spot beside him.

I scooted down and nestled into his arms.

We climbed the dorm stairs perfumed with stale beer and sanitized vomit to the third floor with the exit just steps away from Ian’s dorm room. The room was stark - white concrete walls with two desks adorned with corkboard bulletin boards above, heavy two by four constructed bunk beds, and a long wall of paneled floor to ceiling closet doors. He rested his keys on a desk, took a pile of dirty clothes from the accompanying chair and gestured for me to sit.

You mind if I hit the showers? I didn’t get a chance to take one last night.

Curiously, I looked him over. What guy doesn’t take a shower before his girlfriend arrives after a two month absence? Uh, yeah, go ahead.

He closed the door behind him as he left.

Sitting in the empty chair, I looked around noting he didn’t have any photos displayed. I flipped through his nearest textbook resting on top of a closed laptop.

The doorway sprang open as a guy dressed completely in Indiana University licensed apparel crossed the room to sit on the lower bunk. Hey. He glanced at me as he untied his shoestring smiling to himself.

Hey, I replied guessing he was Ian’s roommate.

You with Ian? he asked.

Uneasy I answered, Yeah.

You aren’t supposed to still be here, he said slipping off a Nike.

What do you mean?

He barked a short laugh and leaned back to see a digital clock, It is four o’clock. His eyes grazed me head to toe. Did he not make it clear last night when he hits the shower you hit the road?

I felt the blood drain from my face. He continued as I grabbed the keys. Don’t feel bad. You’re one of the pretty ones, he might invite you back.

Scrambling out, I skipped the stairwell and bypassed the hallway to the dorm showers. Rapidly tapping both elevator arrow options the doors slid open revealing a packed group of burly guys with a rugby ball. They shifted, allowing enough room for one more.

I did my best to grind the gears for the first five miles but my anger and humiliation grew worse. Trying to gain some composure, I pulled in the parking lot of a boarded up gas station and began sobbing. Roughly dragging some take out napkins across my face I settled enough to shift into reverse.

Our song played from my cell, signaling him before I had to read caller ID. My foot slipped. I killed the engine. I screamed in frustration and silenced the phone.

How long are you going to ignore his calls? Mandy asked the next morning seeing me turn my cell back on.

I don’t plan on speaking to him anymore, so forever. Dumbass filled up my voice mail, I mumbled seeing the flashing icon.

How will you manage that? Unless you keep to my bed with the covers over your head like last night the minute you go home Mary will notice those golden brown eyes of yours are swollen and bloodshot. I give her two minutes before she is on the hotline to her daughter, your ex’s mom.

His mom... I corrected myself, Lilly doesn’t have to find out. He certainly won’t admit what happened to his parents or his grandmother. I’ve got time. He wasn’t planning to come home until Thanksgiving. That gives me almost a month to come up with an explanation of why we aren’t seeing each other anymore that is mutually acceptable.

She sighed. I have to be honest Laken. I knew he would do this.

My eyes filled with tears of humiliation and betrayal.

Mandy wasn’t going to let me go on driveling. She ignored me, brushing her long red hair. She finished and meticulously began applying mascara to her lengthy lashes framing beautiful green eyes. For once, we are both single. In one week, you’ll be eighteen like me. Let’s celebrate our freedom. How about we go clubbing on your birthday?

You know I hate crowds.

Please, it will be fun. I can meet some new blood. You can pretend they’re Ian and say bitchy things to their come-ons. She laughed.

Maybe.

You’d think I would have poured my soul out in this diary after the weekend I had. Not so much. I don’t want to think about it. There really is no point. I’d return his calls just to ask, why’d you encourage me to get up if you were just going to kick me back down?

Chapter 3

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Close your eyes and make a wish. Ian’s mom, Lilly, had made a birthday cake and was waiting expectantly for me to blow out the candles. Please God give me a break, this was my wish every year since I could remember.

Here we were past, present and future. Mary, stooped and withered waiting for life to end, Lilly, a middle-aged beauty trying to patch up her son’s mistakes, and me hoping the fog that was my life would lift.

They handed me a present, one of many they had stacked up. A black velvet ribbon encircled bright blue wrapping paper. I knew Lilly had wrapped it. She was all about presentations. Inside was a beautiful soft pink cashmere sweater.

It’s supposed to show a little shoulder. You have beautiful skin. You shouldn’t hide it behind all those layers of clothes. Show off that gorgeous body a little.

Lilly’s enthusiasm was not contagious. I rubbed the soft fabric between my fingers. The expensive sweater didn’t make sense in my wardrobe of thrift shop apparel.

Thank you. It is lovely.

Mary offered me an envelope with shaky hands. A gift card, you could tell from the bend of the paper. The inside revealed a ridiculous sum for an online bookseller – enough to cover my upcoming textbooks. Hugging Mary in my arms she felt like loose skin wrapped around bones.

There was one present left and Lilly handed it to me. I saw Ian’s handwriting. I put the card aside- reading that would need to be in private. Trying to mask my true feelings, I tore open the paper and pretended to be delighted to find a crimson and cream IU sweatshirt inside. When I pulled the gift from the box, a picture appeared beneath. Ian smiled up from the photo while wearing a T-shirt with Forgive Me airbrushed across the front. Before they could see my reaction I stuffed the sweatshirt back inside.

Okay, now for the piece de resistance. Lilly handed me a gift certificate to an expensive salon. I hope you don’t have any plans this afternoon because you, Mom and I are going for the works. Massage, hair, facials, nails, anything you want.

Poked, stroked and prodded through a massage I didn’t enjoy, eyebrows waxed and then a mud mask applied, the next step was a pedicure. I bit my nails, happy with my choice to decline the manicure. Mary was across the room in the chair I’d just vacated where a tiny woman was applying dragon fire to her toenails. Lilly ended her cell call and waddled over keeping her toe separators still in place.

I just hung up from making reservations for Mom and me at that new steakhouse downtown. Where are you and Mandy off to this evening?

I wished I wasn’t going with Mandy just so I could get a butter seared ribeye. I answered, A club called Zen.

Fun, she mouthed. She looked down at the open hairstyle magazine in my lap. Have the stylist do that color. Ian loves it when you highlight your hair.

I matched her expression to my own face. Thanks! I was just thinking that.

When Lilly dropped Mary and me off late afternoon, Mary took a nap and I went outside to read Ian’s card.

Dear Laken,

I know you don’t want to hear it but stop putting all the blame on me. Did you expect me to abstain forever? I know that sounds cruel, but it is how I feel. There have only been a few, but none of them meant anything. I even thought about you when I was with them. I love you. I have said it so many times to you how can you doubt it? I’ve even given you all the people I love. I would do anything for you. You know that, right?

Ian

As the lighter’s flame caught, the paper curled and black jagged edges chased the words to the center, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

––––––––

When Mandy picked me up, I had on the new sweater and a pair of dark, low on the hip blue jeans I had splurged on for my overnight with Ian.

You look hot. Mandy looked me up, then down. Except for the plastic shoes. She pointed at my bubblegum pink wedge soled feet. I swear unless it is snowing you wear flip flops.

I shrugged, not minding my cheap and comfortable shoes.

After reaching into the backseat, she handed me a pair of shiny black three-inch heels. Wear these, she commanded.

I slid my feet inside. They’re too big.

She handed over a few napkins. Stuff them.

A neon marquee on the venue listed the entertainment. We waited outside long enough to be cuffed with ugly red plastic bracelets on our arms that let the bartender know we weren’t twenty-one. Blinking from the harsh lights of being ID’d to pitch darkness I let my eyes adjust only to be robbed of my remaining sight by a flashing strobe light.

The club was large and multi-leveled. We climbed the stairs and paused at each floor. Finally, we reached the covered roof garden. I looked around at the massive dancing crowd. Mandy grabbed my arm and pulled me forward, closer to the stage and within the throng of sweaty mostly female bodies.

Looking up, there he was - the guy who’d come to my aid when the Jeep had coded. Seth bestowed me with a wicked grin before a beam of stage light blinded his handsome face. Staring up I admired his focus on the guitar strings his fingers deftly stroked. He finished one song to shouts and applause not