On Our Way

By K. Tamnie Key

A road trip to the past...with a few unintentional crimes along the way

 

Macy Carter goes through the motions of attending high school and pretending to care everyday, but she has felt empty since the day it happened. She goes to class; she avoids her parents, and she tries to forget the events of that summer, but she can't. The memories haunt her day and night. But one day, she gets a phone call from the past, and Macy decides it's time they meet. This can't be done over the phone. She's been running away long enough. It's time to run straight into this storm. 

 

But she won't go alone. She'll have to take the other guilty party with her, so she sets out on a cross-country road trip with her estranged and slightly off her rocker sister, Carly, who has no idea where they are going or who they are going to meet when they get there. If she knew, she would never go. Once they catch wind of the unthinkable reunion, her strong yet broken mother and her redemption-seeking father rush to stop her before it's too late. In this mess of a family, everyone is guilty of something, and no one wants to be reminded of it. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: K. Tamnie Key
• Release date: Jun 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201725716

K. Tamnie Key

K. Tamnie Key is a well-meaning and shockingly average person. She is likely currently hanging out with her dog wondering why people act like that on tv. If you would like to contact her, she has an instagram account that she checks periodically. On Our Way is her first published novel, and she thinks you very much for reading it! Instagram account: the.novel.life  

Book preview

Chapter One

Macy

Igot hit in the head with a soccer ball again today. Typical. I was walking past the high school football field, go figure, on my way back from fourth period gym class, just minding my own business, and I got hit in the head again. Again! The best part is it didn't faze me in the least, because I get hit in the head so often. On Tuesday it was a football spiraling straight into my chin. Last Wednesday it was a pencil to the check bone. Only thirty minutes ago it was a dodge ball to the forehead. I had to sit out. This most recent soccer ball hit me square in the face. I paused briefly from surprise as the ball bounced off my flattened nose and rolled back to the person who kicked it in the first place, and then I shook my head and continued walking as if my nose hadn’t concaved into my face. The school’s less than mediocre soccer players hardly acknowledge my pain. They laughed, said that sucks, and continued with their game. Classic. Honestly I should have seen something like this coming. Some people win radio contests. Some people find money on the sidewalk. Some people are like me and get hit in the head with a flying projectile occasionally. At least it didn’t hurt as bad as the golf ball. That one left a mark.

As I made my way past the athletically inept bunch rubbing the sting out of my nose, my phone sang the Moroccan tune that lets me know someone is calling me. It sounds cheery, and that makes me hate it. I should change it, but so much has changed lately, I like that it is at least familiar. 

Yeah, I said answering the phone. My nose hurt, and I was in a mood.

Hello. Is this Macy Carter? asked a woman. She sounded cheery too. I’m not saying that made me hate her, but if she was a more miserable person, I would probably like her a little more.

Yeah, I said again unable to devote energy to thinking of another word. I knew more words existed, but I didn’t care to search for another one. 

Hi Macy. This is Jane. I’m so glad I reached you. I’ve been trying to call your family all week. I was just calling to let you and your family know that the headstone will be arriving in about a week,... I stopped in my tracks. Frozen solid on the sidewalk. My heart felt tight as if someone grabbed ahold of it and squeezed. ...and I wanted to know if anyone from your family would be coming to... I’m sure she had more to say, but I hung up the phone before I had to listen to anymore of it.

I heard screaming. Sirens. My teeth set on edge, and my heart hardened with guilt. I saw the ambulance in the driveway. The blue and red flashing lights from the police cars reflected off the trees and the window of my childhood bedroom. 

I heard someone kick a soccer ball, and whatever self-protective instinct I have left told me to clear the area, so I went to class and tried to forget about the phone call.

LATER THAT NIGHT, I let myself into the termites’ home hoping they wouldn’t mind if I stayed with them for the night. Technically it belonged to my parents, but the termites were there far more often than any of us. The floor creaked when I stepped inside, and I didn’t know if it was old house charm or if I was about to fall through it. Either option would make just as much sense. The parents need to tent the place, but they would need to speak in order to arrange that, so the house was most likely going to fall in on us soon. 

It was dark inside. No one was home yet. Thank goodness. I walked past the boxes in the entryway and went to greet the boxes in the kitchen. We have lived here for about a year and a half now and still no one unpacked. No one hung up a picture. No one arranged furniture or placed decorations. Everything was where the movers left it. The place was temporary. I’ll be going off to college soon, and as soon as I’m gone, the parents will divorce. Who knows if we will ever see each other again.

I haven’t seen Carly since we moved to this coast. Last I heard her gap year before college was extended indefinitely, and she moved in with some guy. I met him once, barely. It’s more like I saw him near her one time. He was helping her get some stuff out of the house. I caught them right as they were about to leave. He walked out of the house carrying a box, and I froze. We had just moved in a month or so before, and for a brief moment when I saw a stranger walking out of the house, I thought I was at the wrong place. I wasn’t though. Carly walked out after him a moment later with another box in her arms. She saw me, and her jaw set as she clenched her teeth. Her eyes filled with disgust. She passed me without saying a word, and I watched her go without saying a word.

I heard keys clinking together outside the front door working their way towards the lock, and I hurried upstairs. I didn’t care which parent it was; I didn’t want to see either one. 

Whichever one it was walked in and slammed the door. Must be Mom. I heard her drop what sounded like stacks of paper on the kitchen table. Per her usual routine, Mom comes "home," if that’s what this place is called, as late as possible, avoids talking or interacting just as much as I do, and locks herself in the office space. It’s basically just the room we store more boxes in, but that room also stores the desk. She doesn’t come out until after I go to bed if at all. She never stops working. Tonight however, she goes to the kitchen. I don’t care why except I realize that in my scramble to escape, I left my backpack downstairs. If I go back for it now, she’ll see me. I would rather not. Instead, I sit on the top step out of her sight, and I wait for the sound of her retreating into the office space. Out of sight and out of mind. It’s harsh, but it’s her opinion of me too.

She doesn’t leave the kitchen though, so I don’t leave my step. I only halfheartedly wonder if there are termites crawling around me in the dark, if I should maybe get up. I start to feel them crawling on me up my arm, around my ankles. Gross. I stand up deciding I’ll walk downstairs and grab my stuff. She’ll ignore me, and I’ll ignore her. That’s how it goes, but then the front door opens again and closes softly trying not to bother anyone. I barely hear footsteps. I know Dad is walking on eggshells, and he knows it too. I sit right back down. Not both of them. That’s too much.

Hey, I hear him say softly in the kitchen like a wounded puppy. No response. I doubt she even looked up from her files. She, as she always is and was, is undoubtedly looking through her manila folders for legal documents, preparing her arguments for court, and ignoring everyone around her. I used to think it was because she was just lost in thought. She didn’t mean to ignore anyone, but then I learned better. She prioritizes, and work is first. I’m not sure how far down the list people fall. Even when we were on speaking terms I don’t think I made the top five.

How was your day? he said. I was pissed at him too, but a part of me, however miniscule a part, felt sorry for him. He was pathetic in his desperation to get her to speak to him again. On the other hand, as much as I tried to avoid her, I agreed with her. I don’t think I would speak to him either. It confused all of us that he was even still here faking a family life. Again, she didn’t respond. I heard her start angry typing on her keyboard.

Did you get any dinner yet? he said. Much to my surprise, and I’m sure to his as well, she spoke.

If you’re hungry, you can make your own dinner. I felt the ice from upstairs. Mom scores another point. I don’t know what the official tally is between them anymore, but I’m sure she does. The keyboard noise continues throughout, and I doubt she could even bring herself to look at him.

I meant do you want to get something together? he said.

No, she said, but it sounded a lot more like ‘I hate you, you disgusting piece of filth.’

There was a long stretch of silence. I wasn’t sure if he gave up and walked away as silently as he arrived or if he didn’t move at all. The clicking on the keyboard continued but based on the volume increase, I felt bad for the keys getting pummeled under her calm, well-controlled rage.

Ok, Dad said finally giving up, at least for now. He would probably try again in a week or so when he recovered from the sting of harsh rejection.

Jackie’s probably available though, Mom said. On second thought he may not recover so quickly. Better make it at least a month. I can’t really blame her though. He deserved it.

I sat staring at my hands in my lap waiting for my opportunity to run down unseen and grab at least my phone, so I could set an alarm for tomorrow morning. I was lost in thought wondering just how many termites there were and if I was being dramatic or if I really could hear them moving around in the walls. I didn’t hear his silent footsteps.

What are you doing? His voice was soft, maybe concerned. I jerked my head up and met his eye. It was the first time I had seen him in a couple weeks. I’ve heard him but not seen him, and I sure haven’t talked to him. I’m careful to avoid. It wasn’t the first awkward silence he experienced lately. It wasn’t even the first awkward silence he experienced in the past five minutes.

Are you hungry? Almost sorry to be the second person to turn him down in a row, almost, I got up and walked into my bedroom closing the door behind me and locked the door. I guess I’ll settle for being woken up by my old alarm clock tomorrow morning. 

Chapter Two

Macy

In the early hours of the morning, I lay in bed exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s become my usual routine. Lay in bed. Listen to the silence. Think about things I don’t want to think about. My mind kept turning, and I kept trying to distract myself with a different memory. One time Carly duct taped all my Barbie dolls to the ceiling. They stayed up there for four months, because she also hid the step stool and ladders. Once, she cut off the straps on all of my bras leaving me very unsupported. Of course that was only after I hung up embarrassing pictures of her drooling into her pillow around the school. In my defense that had been in retaliation to her paying a guy I liked, but who had no interest in me, one dollar to flirt with me for exactly one minute. No more, no less. One dollar. That’s all my humiliation and I are worth to either of them. I’m insulted on multiple levels. Still, all better memories than what my mind won’t shut up about.

I can’t rest. There’s this constant anxious energy pulsing through my veins. It’s like an electric current keeping me from sleep. I can’t make my mind go quiet. I can’t make my body relax. Around 4 AM I fell asleep, and I fell straight into a nightmare. 

I was back at the house I grew up in, the one with the wrap around porch and green shutters. The one with the second story window I used to crawl out of to sit on the roof. The one we left immediately after.

I didn’t have shoes on as I walked along the sidewalk out front. I was on my way home from something. Probably one of the many parties I used to attend. As I rounded the corner to our house, my heart dropped. There were cars in the driveway. No one was supposed to be home. They were going to kill me for sneaking out. I ran through my excuses in my head as I ran towards the front door. I just wanted to take a walk. I wasn’t gone long, honest. Maybe they would buy it; maybe they wouldn’t, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

There was a police officer in the front yard. I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out. She didn’t hear me. She didn’t even see me. She walked right past me close enough to brush my shoulder, but she didn’t see me.

I tried to talk to Mom as she ran from her car to the house frantic, but I couldn’t make a sound. I ran after her into the house, but then everyone vanished, and I was the only one there. The door slammed behind me and locked. I ran to it, not wanting to be in there alone, but I couldn’t unlock the door. My fingers kept slipping off. I grabbed the handle and pulled, but the door wouldn’t open. I ran for a window, but they all started to disappear one by one until there was no way out.

I woke up in a cold sweat and breathing hard. My heart hammered to the point of pain. Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall again. I kept thinking about Jane and that stupid phone call. The headstone. It’s been over a year, and the nightmares haven’t gone away. The regret and guilt in my gut have only intensified. I’m never going to outrun this. I’ll never escape her. I’ll never be able to forget it, and its only getting worse. The tears fell with the realization.

In an instant it became clear. I was going back. I had to see her. I had to make amends. I’m tired of feeling like this. I took a deep breath to slow my heart, and then another, and then, my alarm started screeching like a wicked witch with a big, crooked, wart adorned nose.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I karate chopped the alarm so hard it flew off the nightstand and hit the floor with a crash. Witch defeated. Then I tried to get out of bed but found my feet tangled in the sheets, so to paint an honest picture, I feel head first out of bed into the floor. After I picked myself up and assessed my concussion, I picked the alarm up, unplugged it, and threw it out the window. It might have hit someone, or the shriek echoing back to me could have been a result of something else. Finally someone else gets hit with the flying objects. I threw the sheets haphazardly back on the bed I stumbled face first out of. Then I dove under my bed and found an old book bag and shoved some clean-ish clothes from my closet floor into the book