From the day he’d arrived home until today, his life had been no different from the way it had been before his accident, except for the fact that Trace was no longer around and that he couldn’t walk. He was still being interviewed as he had before. He was still having meetings with his people either by phone or here at the house. His mother was still planning things out for him career wise, and even though it was crazy for him to think that he was going to start doing public appearances, the truth of the matter was...his mother was making it so. Oprah wanted him, Leno wanted him, and many east coast talk shows wanted him too. His mother didn’t see it as a sympathy cry for his disability, either. She saw promise in the appearances and so did Johnny...so did his label. His name was being kept alive, and, according to them, in the matter of a year or two he could have another successful album out if he kept a “positive vibe” around him, as they put it.
But Justin didn’t know how the hell he could draw up the inspiration to write and compose one song let alone an albums worth. What was more, if he were to put out an album, how was he supposed to do a tour? He couldn’t dance...what was he supposed to do, become some sort of piano playing lounge singer? The whole idea was ridiculous and he felt like he was being pushed back into the spotlight entirely too quickly. It was like nobody wanted to remember what happened to Trace, or what he went through and still was going through. It was only about him moving past all of it to his label and management. He expected that though. But his mom...he never expected her to agree with them. He figured she would have protected him when the prospect of doing TV interviews came up.
But as it turned out, she was the one who made the phone call to Oprah.
And of course, Oprah would want to talk all about Trace, show pictures of them together when they were kids, and Justin really had no idea if he’d be able to handle it without breaking down. But of course he knew that was the intention. His tears would bring her ratings, so naturally she was welcoming him with open arms. It blew. Oprah was huge, and before all of this happened he and Trace had been so desperate to gain her publicity they would sit around and try to think up ways to get themselves on her show. Trace would always say: ‘when we come out with a denim line, Oprah will have to put it on her show. Maybe Trace the great designer will end up being bigger than you are Justin.’
There was no denim line though, and the funny thing was, Trace was going to be glorified on Oprah’s stage anyway. Hell, he didn’t even have to do much.
Just die.
His career wasn’t the only thing stressing him out to the high heavens though. No, unfortunately, there was much more he’d had to deal with over the past few weeks. First there was his new therapist, Maureen, as he’d gotten accustomed to calling her. It had been very hard for him to accept her at first. For their first few sessions he’d kept his sunglasses on, and brooded to himself whenever possible. For reasons he didn’t understand at the time, she seemed open to his moods, and didn’t try to encourage him to lighten up. It had confused him because he knew Karen never would have tolerated it. For a while, it seemed like she didn’t care. That she was just happy getting a check from him every month, and his progress wasn’t that important. It was only when he finally questioned her about it one day, as he gazed out of her picture window, that he finally figured her out.
“Justin, I’m not here to push you,” she’d explained with a calming smile. “It seems to me that too many people have tried to do that already. When you realize how misery has enveloped your life, you’ll open up, and then we’ll talk. Until then, I’m letting you have your own way for once.”
“So you don’t care if I act like this every session?” He’d scoffed.
She’d simply shrugged. “It’s your life. If this is how you’d like to live, then so be it.”
Maureen left him to his thoughts for the next couple of sessions, and he was almost glad that she had. He’d been able to think a little more clearly when he was left alone, where his mother couldn’t pester him about some career choice, where his management couldn’t try persuading him to do another interview, where Elisha couldn’t pull out the god forsaken baby book and try to have him pick names with her. Where Rachael couldn’t roll her eyes, and tell him he wasn’t making the right choices in his life.
He could simply be Justin, and not even Trace was popping in to tell him he was making the wrong choices anymore.
At that point Justin hadn’t been “visited” by his deceased friend since the day he’d arrived back home. It reassured him somewhat. It meant that maybe...his demons were going away. That he was beginning to overcome Trace’s death and move on with his life. That he wasn’t going crazy. Still...the smallest part of his wished that Trace would pop back in from time to time, mostly late at night when he was lying awake, feeling as if the strain of the entire world rested squarely on his shoulders. He needed to hear a snide remark or two from his friend then, just to remind him that things weren’t so bad, as Trace had been able to do for him so many times in his life.
He never showed up though, and that only convinced Justin that it was over, that he had to forget about these so called “visits” and face the reality that his life had become. Trace was dead, that was certain, and he had too many people that were very much alive and well surrounding him, people that loved and cared about him, that he had to focus his attention on now. He had the sanity for them now, and he knew it was one thing that should have made him happy. For months he thought he’d lost it, but now he seemed to be back on top just a little, and he felt slightly stronger everyday...
Even though his doctors visit at the end of that first week, nearly sent him crashing back down to the ground again.
Justin had been terrified. He’d grown a strong hatred for hospitals the day that Trace had flatlined. In his mind it was a place people went to die, not to move on, and he was adamant with both Rachael and his mother that he wasn’t going to his re evaluation. Not even a reassuring phone call from Karen had been able to change his mind, even though he’d been a little glad to hear from her. She’d sounded refreshed and rested. He was glad. Glad that he was out of her hair, and he was sure she felt the same way.
“Is Sheridan coming?” He’d asked hopefully, once he was sure his mother and Rachael had left him to converse privately.
“She’s busy planning for school, and I’d appreciate it if you kept this little visit between us. She could get distracted and this is an important semester for her,” Karen had said sharply. “I’ll be there, though.”
“Oh.”
He’d left the conversation at that. After all, he hadn’t spoken to Sheridan at all since his third day back home, and even then...it was a rushed phone call. He’d still been getting acclimated to being home then, trying to plan baby things out with Elisha. His cousin Rachael had just arrived fresh from Memphis as well to help him out around the house since Elisha was getting bigger and more helpless by the day, and it was decided that training her to do the job would have been pointless. Justin knew that Rachael had also been summoned to eventually...take Trace’s old spot as his personal assistant, even though everybody seemed to overlook that minor detail besides himself. He figured it was just another step back into normalcy. After all, he had a big, busy career, and if he was going to get back to it, he would need an assistant at his side. His mother couldn’t do everything, and she had her hands full co managing his career as it was. He didn’t talk about the subject, he just went with it. He’d always trusted Rachael, and Trace had always trusted her too, even though they would constantly bicker back and forth to one another from the time they were small. Justin had always found it amusing of course, and knew that deep down they were really the best of friends.
Besides himself and Elisha, he found Rachael to be one of the people who took Trace’s death the hardest, only she tried not to let her emotions show if she could help it.
He’d found that getting Rachael oriented with everything she had to help him with on a daily basis was just as tiring as feeding the horses had been. She and his mother constantly argued on the best way to do things, and by the end of that second week Justin didn’t even know who was right or wrong anymore. All he knew was that he was stuck in a house with three women who were all trying to do the best thing for him, even though they had no idea what that was. Elisha was the one who was mostly on his side. She wanted to see him do things by himself and not be babied, which would have been fine...except he knew he still needed a lot of help. Rachael was all about learning the proper way to do things, so she wouldn’t hurt him, which was also fine...except for the fact that his mother was trying to teach her everything herself without consulting his doctor, and he still didn’t have the heart to tell the woman she really had no clue what she was doing. Yes, his mother was the worst. The one who wouldn’t listen to anybody but herself, telling herself that she knew what was best, that she knew what she was doing. He’d also convinced himself that she’d forced Paul to stay at the house in Millington, simply so he wouldn’t be able to give her his opinion or tell her that she was going overboard. Justin felt cheated by this, and he’d asked her several times when he’d be able to see his dad. She just told him to wait, that there would be a formal get together and he’d be able to see everybody then. It might have been a stretch too, but a big part of him was worried that she was killing her marriage due to her stubborn attitude.
Justin made a note to discuss the situation with his dad when he saw him.
So he’d ended up at the hospital again, despite his protesting and pathetic moans as he was forced out of his house by his mother, Rachael and Elisha. He’d tried desperately to pull back on the joystick that controlled his chair, but his mother had snapped at him, telling him that he was going to wreck the components of the thing if he kept on like he was and ‘what would he do then?’. Then he told her he didn’t give a shit, and that’s when she’d stormed away from him...again. Rachael had thrown up her hands and glared at him again before following her out to the van, and that left Elisha behind to console him, to place her hands gently on his shoulders and whisper in his ear that they knew he didn’t mean to lose his composure...that she knew how he felt.
But the thing was, she really didn’t know.
She couldn’t.
She hadn’t known him her whole life like he had, and despite the fact that she’d watched them both get into that SUV the night of the accident, she hadn’t watched him die like he had. She certainly didn’t have to be in a wheelchair day in and day out either...have her life decided for her.
Still he smiled, if not for her sake, than simply for the baby’s, and let her talk him into coming quietly to the hospital with the three of them after that, not saying a word when his mother took it upon herself to settle his chair upon the lift that would guide him up into the van she’d recently bought for him. She didn’t hesitate to give Elisha a look that ordered her to get into the car and leave them alone either, and he’d swallowed hard, knowing he was in for a good long lecture about how he needed to change his attitude and stop being distracted by “certain people” as she put it whenever the subject of Sheridan seemed to come up.
“Baby, I know you’re scared of the hospital.”
His eyes had widened in complete shock, but still, he hadn’t said a word.
She came around to the front of his chair so she could put a gentle hand on his cheek and smile at him in that motherly way that he’d used to love back when he had a regular life. “I know when...when Trace passed...” She trailed off, her gaze leaving his for a fraction of a second, growing slightly distant, before she seemed to remember herself. “I know how hard it was for you to watch him die in the hospital like that, Justin.”
He’d felt a lump the size of grapefruit forming in his throat. Of all the times she thought to bring up that horrific moment in his life, it had to be that morning. He’d began to wonder if she forgot how hard it was for him to remember that day, the way the monitor had beeped, seemingly endlessly...how white the sheets were, and how grim the doctor’s voices had been when they’d yelled ‘clear!’. “Mom I don’t...”
“But you’ve grown from that,” she continued on, as if she wanted to ignore how upset she’d made him. “You’ve come so far, and we’re all so proud of you. Whatever happens...whatever they tell us today, we’ll make it work.” She kissed his cheek. “Okay?”
He’d just stared at her, trying not to cry, trying to rid his mind of any thoughts he might have, because he knew he couldn’t blow up at her...not anymore. It was only when she pressed the button, sending his lift up and into the confines of the handicapped space in the back of the van, did he take his eyes off of her...did he let himself go and cry silently all the way to the hospital while the three women in the van talked about...shopping and babies on the way.
It was ridiculous how the subject could have changed from his best friends final moments to...shopping for baby clothes.
They all seemed so blind to it, the fact that he was gone. Even Elisha, who had seemed to feel as he had in the beginning. He figured she would always have that longing...that unwillingness to let the memory of Trace fade. But some old friends of hers had been coming by after she’d gotten settled, taking her out of the house, away from the painful memories of her dead husband-to-be. Sometimes she’d come back from a day of shopping, her face filled with enthusiasm and laughter. Justin would watch from the corner of the room with a dark expression as she and Rachael would dig through all the things she had bought for the baby. They didn’t speak of the father, only of materials, and wall paper colors...which section of his house they would renovate especially for the baby.
And it was obvious Trace was quickly fading out of the girls’ lives.
He knew that he was the only one that gave a shit about the horrible thing that had happened to his best friend anymore. That he was the only one who knew it was wrong to look past it, to be okay with it.
It was as if everyone was trying to forget he was ever around at all. Pushing him away was easier for them. Planning for upcoming events, like the birth of the child who would never know him, was much more exciting than remembering him. At times, Justin wished the baby away...but then cursed himself for it. It wasn’t right to think about it that way. Trace would have been upset if he ever knew that those feelings lurked inside of him....
But Justin knew Trace never had to know, because he was dead and buried.
Justin had wanted to get away, to wheel himself down the road, over bridges and highway, right back to Sheridan. He’d let her wrap him up in her arms as he cried, and she’d tell him that it was okay. That she’d help him keep Trace’s memory alive, and he didn’t have to deal with his family and friends ever again if he didn’t want to. He nearly laughed at himself, knowing how stupid his idea was.
He’d slipped his sunglasses over his eyes as they reached the entrance to the hospital, and two male nurses helped his mother and the girls get him out of the van and into the hospital with ease. He made sure to keep his head down the entire time, not bothering to make small talk with the men as his mother and Rachael had decided to do. All he’d wanted to do that day was get in, get the inevitable news, and get out again.
He was lifted onto a hospital bed while they waited for the doctor to come. Rachael had played with her cell phone, his mother had flipped through a book she’d brought with her, and Elisha had decided to entertain Justin with a rousing quiz in the back of her copy of Parents Magazine. He was only half with her, because he’d been expecting Trace to show up. He usually did when an important event was about to take place in his life, and he prayed that it would happen. He’d needed his friend that day, to get him through his examination, Karen, and what would happen if he received more bad news.
Then Karen arrived, but Trace didn’t.
She’d greeted him with a warm, but mostly professional hello. It was a world away from the attitude he’d received from her once he’d opened up at the ranch, and he figured...it wasn’t her place to be warm and inviting to him anymore. He wasn’t her client anymore, and he figured she’d only come to the evaluation to document the results in her record book, and bring closure to his file. Justin convinced himself that she didn’t really care about the person inside of him anymore, and in fact...she was probably glad he was gone. She hated the fact that he was in love with her daughter anyway, and suddenly Justin didn’t really care if he ever saw the woman again.
It had only been a week, but his entire world and the people in it seemed to do a complete 180.
“Hello, Justin.”
Doctor Rinaldi, the physician that had originally treated him in the New York hospital had flown out as a favor, to oversee his re evaluation and talk about the progress he’d made since the accident. Justin forced a smile and shook his hand just for this reason alone, knowing the poor guy had gone out of his way for him, and was sure he didn’t do this for just anybody. Justin wasn’t just anybody though, no. His case was a unique one, a publicized one, something Doctor Rinadli probably considered a top priority. The fact that his mother had kept in touch with him over the past few months hadn’t hurt either, he was sure. But Justin figured it was better he was dealing with somebody he already knew, and sort of trusted. After all, this doctor had tended to Trace in the beginning as well, when he’d been on life support. Justin had sat in Trace’s room day after day, night after night while he laid there in his comatose state, and he’d talked to him, because Rinaldi had said that it sometimes helped, even though nothing could have helped Trace.
At least Doctor Rinaldi had tried to do something. Even when Trace had flatlined, the doctor had been there, and tried so hard to bring him back...
Justin had forced it all out of his head as the doctor smiled warmly at him and made casual small talk about what he’d been doing and if he’d been in a good mental state. He hadn’t looked at anybody else besides Rinaldi as he answered the questions, knowing that one look at his mother or Karen would most likely cause him to confess that he’d still been having conversations with Trace from time to time. No, he had refused to do that. Instead it was the fake smile, laugh, and charm that had helped him to the top of the billboard charts with NSYNC and his solo venture as well.
It was only when the nurse came in with some tools, that he knew he was doomed to hear the worst.
He was poked and prodded in the legs, feet, on the tips of his toes, and the other parts of him that resided below his navel, all the time being asked what it felt like, if he could feel any sensations whatsoever. He’d managed a glance not at his mother, Karen, or Elisha, but at Rachael, who looked like she could read his mind the moment their eyes met. Out of all of them, she was the most realistic one. The one who knew and understood most of what they had told her about his injury. The one who knew that he probably wouldn’t walk again, and she seemed to take it up on herself to force him to be okay with that. To move on, to get used to it, no matter how much he wanted to sink into the chair and melt away.
She was the one who had almost taken Karen’s place in a way. The one who didn’t let him sulk, or give up.
And in that moment he knew...he just knew that he wasn’t going to walk again.
“I can’t feel anything,” he’d whispered, painstakingly tearing his gaze from Rachael and focusing on Rinaldi again.
He could feel Karen’s penetrating gaze on him, but he refused to look at her.
The doctor had sighed. “I’d like a word with Justin, if you all wouldn’t mind.”
“What is it?” His mother had spoken up immediately. “You can tell us. We’re all family here.”
“Lynn please,” Karen had spoken up. “He needs a moment.”
And with that, the woman who probably confused him more than anybody else in the room, was the most logical one. His family was ushered out of the room after that, with a thankful smile at Karen from Rinaldi, and the moment the door clicked closed, that was when Justin saw it. The grimmest look he’d seen on anybody’s face since Trace had died.
“I thought you could use a few minutes of peace,” Rinaldi had said with a light chuckle, as he pulled a stool up to the edge of the bed and sat.
He’d blown out a long breath as he gazed up at the ceiling, trying his best not to break down, but knowing it was inevitable. “I thought...I mean...in New York you said...”
“I know.” He’d placed a calm hand on top of Justin’s trembling fist. “You had about a fifty percent chance of getting some feeling back. And, you still have a chance, I just need to tell you the facts, so you can be prepared for your future, Justin. Most people in your situation...”
“Just say it,” Justin had whispered, not looking him in the face. “Tell me the truth.”
“No,” the doctor had said after a long moment of silence. “It’s been a little too long, and these tests show that...you probably won’t walk again.”
The remaining hope he’d been clinging to for the past few months suddenly dropped out of him, and he let out a sharp sob, before biting it back. “Thanks.”
“There’s a lot you can still do, Justin,” Rinaldi continued. “From what I hear, you’ve been doing a lot already, and you should keep at it. They’re developing new technology all the time for people in your condition. You should look into getting yourself a manually driven car. It brings confidence to the handicap.”
He hadn’t said anything. Really, what could he say? He was crippled, handicapped, in a wheelchair...for life. It was hard to take in, even harder than it should have been, because Sheridan wasn’t there to hold his hand and support him. Justin figured that was what hurt most of all, but there was nothing he could do about it. He hadn’t called Sheridan about this because he knew it would spark an argument with her mother, and he wouldn’t put that on her shoulders. Still, he felt completely alone, because apart from Karen, the three other people standing outside that door couldn’t really grasp it. They tried, oh, how they tried, Rachael especially...but they couldn’t really understand it.
He’d had no idea what he was supposed to do.
“There are group programs,” the doctor had continued. “Support groups...people like you who can help you through this. They do races...basketball leagues, things like that. If you want, I can recommend a few.”
He’d chuckled. “I don’t really think I’m cut out for that.”
Rinaldi had sighed. “I know your situation is unique, and I’m not trying to force you into anything you’re not comfortable with. But please know...this is the turning point for you, Justin. I’ve seen people lose themselves after something like this happens, and I don’t want to see you go down that road. You’re too young, and have too much to lose.”
“The blonde that was in here before...she’s having his baby,” he’d told Rinaldi after taking a few moments to steady his emotions.
“Mr. Ayala’s?”
Justin nodded.
“Well, I guess you do have something to keep you busy.” Rinaldi had smiled softly.
“Yeah.” He’d agreed, finding the strength to smile back at him. “I...I have to be strong for them, you know?”
The doctor shook his hand. “Then just promise me you’ll keep me updated, and call if you have a concern with anything?”
Justin had assured him that he would, and soon, the doctor had left him alone for a few minutes so he could discuss the situation with the people waiting outside for him. He thought he’d been able to hear his mother sobbing shortly afterward, but he pretended not to hear as he turned his face into the pillow and sobbed harshly into it.
And Trace didn’t come then either.
Justin had managed to dry his tears when he heard the door being opened again. His mother wasn’t there this time though, only Rachael was, with Karen lingering in the background. “What happened?” He’d whispered.
“Your mom went to the van with Elisha,” she’d told him, which he knew meant that she had been too upset to face him, and Elisha had to stay with her so she wouldn’t lose the rest of her composure. “I figured you might want to say goodbye to Karen before we left.”
He nodded a little, and then Rachael was walking towards him, the most sympathetic look she’d ever given him resting on her face. “I’m okay,” he’d reassured her, when her next move was to ruffle his scraggly curls with her hand. He reached up and stopped her, not hesitating to give her hand a squeeze as he moved it away from his head.
“We’ll work through this whole thing,” she’d reassured him with a forced smile. “I’ll help you, okay?”
He’d just nodded. He didn’t really want to talk about the reality of his situation anymore in that instant.
She’d just shaken her head a little bit. “I miss him so much,” she’d confessed. “God, it’s like...it hasn’t hit me this hard since the funeral, you know?”
It was the first time she’d really put it to him like that. Rachael was usually the strong one. The one that seemed to be able to keep her true feelings bottled up so people wouldn’t deem her a push over. Justin figured it was because she’d grown up around him and his friends that gave her a thicker skin. A true tom boy, you’d never see her crying if she skinned her knee or fell off her bicycle. In fact, she’d always been the one to accompany Trace on his annual hunting trips, since Justin detested it so much. In that moment, he began to think about his cousin’s relationship with his best friend in more detail. He realized that..she may have been just as close to Trace as he had been, only he’d removed Trace from the small town life when he’d had the means to do so, leaving Rachael behind to do...whatever it is she did.
Suddenly he felt like he’d denied his cousin something that he shouldn’t have.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry that...you didn’t get to see him much, you know...”
She shook her head quickly and sniffled. “Justin no. It’s not...it’s not that.”
“I know it is Rach,” he nodded. “You guys always wanted to hang out, but he was just too busy with my crap.”
“He was busy with Elisha,” she’d rolled her eyes. “He was busy with everything, Justin, and I was in college.”
“I could have had you come out more.”
“Damn it,” she’d grunted. “Stop...stop blaming everything on yourself. If anything, I should be the one in that grave. Not him.”
He was taken back slightly. “What?”
“He wanted me to take his place, you know,” she’d informed him. “Right before you left for the city, he asked me to go in his place but I...god, it’s so stupid...”
Justi had forced himself as upright as he could and propped himself up on his elbows. “Rach...”
“He didn’t want to do it anymore,” she’d whispered. “He was just too much of a pussy to tell you himself.”
It was the last thing he wanted to hear. Of course, it was just another reason Justin had to blame himself for everything, even thought it wasn’t what Rachael meant to do by telling him that. “So if he hadn’t gone to New York, he’d still be alive...”
“I’m not saying that,” she’d snapped. “I was just thinking about it the other day and today...it just made me think harder about it. I wanted you to know.”
He’d chuckled bitterly, resenting Trace for it, and hating himself for that at the same time. Fuck, Trace should have said something. Why didn’t he just tell him?
“You would have freaked out,” Rachael had answered his question for him after a moment.
“He should have said something,” Justin had said quietly. “Or fuck, you should have.”
“Oh, like it was my place,” she’d grunted. “Come on, Justin. Think back to how things were then.”
He’d shaken his head. “Why would he have told you that and not me? He told me everything.”
She’d just shrugged. “I guess you weren’t the only one he felt he could talk to.”
And with a little glare, she’d buzzed the nurse, and walked away from him.
What she said bugged him so much, that he could barely pay attention to anything Karen said to him before he left. Hell, he didn’t even ask how Sheridan was, because inside he was crumbling...knowing that Trace could have stayed back in LA, safe with Elisha. If Rachael had been with him, he wouldn’t have had a reason to go joyriding drunk, and a life could have been spared...
He would have been walking around normally as well, but she hadn’t said a damn thing to him.
Blame Rachael
Of course, he knew that wasn’t logical either.
The ride back to the house had been silent, but Justin hadn’t expected anything other than that and when they’d returned, things went on as usual. His mother didn’t mention a thing about the doctor’s visit, probably because the results of it had dissapointed her too much. Justin wanted to blame himself. It was his fault...he hadn’t tried hard enough, and now his mother was depressed because of it. He’d tried to push it out of his mind over the coming days, but it seemed impossible. His mother seemed to be trying her very hardest to push him to better himself now. He was seeing Maureen nearly everyday, she even had the woman paying him house visits, giving him suggestions, and having him install things in his house that would help him. A new shower that let him stand upright to bathe himself, and a standing frame that he could get himself in and out of on his own for starters.
Justin liked these things of course. They made him feel slightly more independent, even though Rachael seemed to detest everything Maureen was trying to do. She would always say that he needed more of an exercise routine rather than a spiritual, mental strengthening regimen, and Justin had to admit there wasn’t a lot about sessions with Maureen that were very “physical”. He found that she had a different approach to her therapy. They talked a lot, she called it ‘cleansing his dark side’. It sounded a little creepy to him, but after the first couple of times, Justin felt himself feeling a little bit renewed, a little less miserable, and more willing to try things rather than brood in his wheelchair. He couldn’t really explain it in a way that Rachael would understand though. The most he could tell her was that Maureen was doing her job, and that he was satisfied with it. He told Rachael he’d had too many changes to his life already, and he was going to stick with Maureen so he could keep himself from going insane. She gave him a whatever kind of attitude, rolled her eyes, but that was the extent of her protesting. She knew she wouldn’t win, no matter what she said to him.
He was just fine with that.
The first time he fell had come a week after his re evaluation. He’d still been getting used to his new shower lift, and fell right out of it one of the first times he insisted on using it by himself. He’d landed right on his face, causing the blood to come gushing out of his nose and onto the floor. Thank God for the emergency buzzer. Rachael had responded to the distress call almost immediately, and Elisha had appeared in his bathroom doorway seconds after his cousin arrived. His mother had been out at a meeting, thankfully, so that meant only one person had been yelling at him. Rachael. She lectured him about his warped sense of independence and how he needed a full time aid, her voice raised the entire time Elisha was crouched before him, stopping his nostrils up with a paper towel.
There was no major damage caused to him by the fall, but the bruises on his face lasted for days, and he was too embarrassed to look his mother in the face, let alone call Sheridan on the phone to tell her about it. He knew she would be able to sense the failure in his voice and start asking questions, and he wouldn’t have been able to handle that. He probably would have broken down, especially because his mother was extra protective now that he’d fallen. The whole situation had freaked her out. Everyday she would ask him if he was in pain, even when it became evident that his bruises were gone. Nothing he could tell her seemed to ease her mind, and he felt like a great weight was causing him to sink deeper and deeper into the confines of his chair. It was too much stress...and he didn’t need any more.
So he just ignored his girlfriend. The woman who loved and understood him better than anybody.
Then the family party came. Justin thought he would have had more time to prepare for such a gathering, but his mother hadn’t seemed to care about giving him time. One day she just decided to tell him that the family was coming out for the weekend, with a big old smile on her face. He’d stared at his mother for a while as she busied herself fixing him a sandwich, trying to figure out a way to tell her he didn’t want to see anybody just yet. But then Rachael nudged him from her position beside him at the table, sending him a warning looking with her eyes when he’d glanced her way. He looked to Elisha for some kind of support too, but, as always, she had her head buried in a magazine, refusing to involve herself in his drama.
She always did it and it was something he never thought would have been an issue. They’d really bonded before he’d come back home, but Elisha had severely changed from the time she’d settled into his house. She tried to be involved in what was going on in his life, encouraging him from time to time, and helping Rachael out when she could, but then...she seemed to get distracted a lot too. If it was just because of the baby he wouldn’t of had a problem with it, but it wasn’t just the baby. She was dating, as weird as it was, and a deep, angry resentment towards her had begun to form inside of him due to that. Especially since one of the men she seemed to take more of an interest in than the rest was JC. JC who was supposed to have been one of Trace’s closest friends. Wasn’t that betrayal? Wasn’t he taking advantage of her vulnerability? Wasn’t Elisha parading herself around like somebody who hadn’t lost their fiance? He didn’t have a clue, but he didn’t dare ask questions. He knew he’d only get the third degree from everybody if he did. They’d all tell him that she had to move on sometime. That she couldn’t dwell on Trace’s memory for the rest of her life.
Sometime...yeah...
But Christ, it hadn’t even been a year.
For the sake of everyone’s sanity, and because the fact that seeing family meant seeing his stepfather for the first time in forever, he took the gathering in stride. He helped his mother and the girls pick a caterer and map out the best way for everyone to stay at his place comfortably. Rachael made sure the other bedrooms in the guesthouse were clean and ready to go, while he Elisha and his mother oversaw the overall tidiness of the main house. The day before everyone arrived, they called in a cleaning service for a final touch, and Rachael made sure to get him out of the house to avoid any awkward confrontations with strangers. She drove them to the beach, which was supposed to be a treat for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been...knowing that it must have been with Trace, and he was a little glad he didn’t remember.
Naturally, it was a little disheartening, rolling along the sidewalk in his chair, while he watched a few people jogging down the sandy beach. He longed to feel the seawater wash up over his feet, to feel the sand squish between his toes as he walked along. He began to remember a happier time, walking along the beach with Britney close to him, resting her head on his shoulder as they held hands and walked. It was a different time of course. He couldn’t have given a shit about the girl now. But it was just the moment that made him long to go back in time. To walk, to laugh, to have the peace of mind that his life was exactly the way he wanted it...
He couldn’t go back though, and with the stress of everything else that had been happening over the past few weeks resting on his shoulders, he’d stopped his chair suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk, and started to cry right there in the open, with Rachael looking back over her shoulder at him, a knowing expression on her face.
“Come on.”
She’d gotten behind him and started to push hard on his chair as he cried.
“What the hell are you doing?” He’d growled through his tears.
“I want to go down to the beach.”
“So fucking go.”
“Stop being so bitter, would you? I’m trying to help you.”
“I can’t go down there.” He’d sobbed. “My chair will get stuck in the sand.”
“Hey, isn’t it one of those resilient things?” She’d said in a silly sort of voice. “I think I read in the brochure that it can climb mountains. I mean, it should, for the money it cost.”
“Rachael...”
“Would you just try, Justin?” Her shoulders sagged when all he could seem to do was stare at her. “Fuck, I’ve been killing myself for you, J. The least you can do for me is try today...just for today. You know this weekend is going to be fucking ridiculous, having to put on smiles for everybody. I thought we could hang out today. Just us, without Elisha and your mom for once.”
He’d known she was right. They needed a peaceful day, a calm before the storm, otherwise either one of them might have been prone to snapping at one of their lovely family members, and it wouldn’t go over well. “Well, fine,” he’d sniffed a little. “But when I get stuck, you’ll be sorry.”
She’d rolled her eyes.
He didn’t get stuck, and nobody bothered them when they settled on a spot closer to the water. It was surreal. He figured some photographers would have spotted them, or some morons who wanted his autograph and picture would seek him out, but none of that happened. He didn’t dwell on it. He didn’t want to jinx it, so he simply let the morning unfold. Rachael helped him out of his chair after a while, and down onto the old blankets she’d laid out for them. Justin allowed himself to lay down, scrunching up his fingers in the sand, trying to imagine that they were his feet instead, and it sort of worked. He sort of smiled.
It had turned into a nice day after all.
So nice, that Justin felt like he could talk about Sheridan with somebody for the first time since he’d come home. It was the first time that he could think about her completely, without the weight of the world crashing down on him, and he realized how much he longed for her to be beside him, smiling, telling him stories about New York City, and horses. Hell, she could have talked to him about spinach just then and he wouldn’t have cared. He just wanted her there, with him.
He hated to admit that he’d almost forgotten how much he needed her, that he’d almost allowed certain people in his life to drown her out of his memory.
“Rachael.”
“Hm?” She’d looked up slightly from her copy of Cosmopolitan and smiled at him.
“I...I miss my girlfriend.”
She’d gazed at him uncertainly for a few moments, before placing her magazine down in the sand. “Sheridan, right?”
He’d propped himself up on his elbows and gazed out at the waves lapping up on the shore. Sheridan would have liked it there at the beach, and probably wouldn’t have minded having Rachael along either. She was an accepting person, even though nobody in his life wanted to accept her as a reality in his life. “Yeah,” he’d nodded slightly before looking back at her. “But I can’t have her here. You know, mom would flip out if I had her at the house with the family coming and everything.”
She’d sighed. “She’d more than flip. I can’t even have Vince over right now. He wanted to fly out from Memphis and spend a week at the house, but your mom thought he might distract you.”
Justin figured that was the end of the discussion, as he didn’t want to piss Rachael off. After all, if she couldn’t see her boyfriend why should he have been able to see Sheridan? Besides, she’d already gone to enough trouble taking him to the beach, getting him settled in the sand, and he didn’t want to ruin the moment.
“You know...maybe we can have another party after this one...invite the whole gang over. It’s been forever since we’ve all hung out.” Rachael suggested. “I mean, I’m sure Paul is going to drag your mom back home after this weekend. She’s been away from him for way too long, and I’m prepared to tell him how fucking crazy she’s been driving us. You could have Sheridan visit then and I’ll tell Vince to come. It’ll be nice.”
He’d given his cousin a skeptical look. Never in a million years did he think she’d be so accepting of his need to see Sheridan, and considering the way things had been going, he really had no idea why she’d be so understanding. “Nice?” He’d finally managed.
“Jesus, I’m not the wicked witch of the West,” she laughed a little and rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin up with one hand and grabbing her magazine back with the other as she kicked her feet up in the air behind her. “If you want to have a girlfriend, that’s your business, and I’ll support you, even if nobody else wants to.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my cousin?” He’d laughed.
“I never said that it’s a good idea..what you’re doing,” she’d reminded him. “All I’m saying is that it’s your life, and somebody needs to stand behind you and not treat you like a child. It might as well be me. I mean...I think Trace would have wanted it this way. I feel like...I feel like we can trust each other, Justin.”
She hadn’t looked at him as she said it all, and naturally he understood why. He almost wondered if Trace had ever visited her like he visited him, told her things like: ‘go easy on Justin’ But no..that was crazy, right? He guessed it didn’t matter, because he knew better than to ask her about it. If he was wrong, she would think he was completely crazy, and he didn’t want to think about the consequences.
“I trust you, Rach,” he finally told her.
She just smiled and flipped a page in her magazine. “Just call Sheridan after we find out when your mom is going out of town, and have her come over. I’ll organize the rest of it, call people and shit, got it?”
He’d just nodded and laid back down on the blankets.
It was silent for a long time after that, and it was only when he felt himself beginning to drift off into a peaceful little snooze that Rachael decided to speak up again.
“Justin, can I ask you something?”
He’d perked up, and wiped a sliver of drool from the corner of his mouth. “Um..yeah, sure.”
“Do you ever...hear things?”
He’d shot her an odd look. “Hear things?”
“I don’t know...” She’d trailed off and smoothed out her hair a little bit before looking at him more firmly. “Like in the house sometimes, I’ve heard things shifting around in the next room and I’ll go in to check...but there won’t be anybody there.”
He’d shaken his head very, very harshly. “No,” he’d blurted out, like it was the most important thing he ever told her. It was strange, her asking him something like that. Had his mother told her about his strange tendency to talk to himself at times? He hadn’t been able to help but wonder if she was trying to get something out of him, trying to get him to admit he’d seen and talked to Trace from time to time.
But he’d been determined not to say a thing about it.
“Justin...” She’d stared at him for a moment. “I thought...I mean...I thought I may have seen him the other day.”
“W-who?” He’d stammered, his eyes wide with the realization that he wasn’t alone in his battle with Trace the Illusion.
She’d looked down at the sand. “Trace.”
“Trace is dead.” He’d shot out at her before he could stop himself. It couldn’t be helped of course. It was something he’d been working with Maureen on saying to himself more. She figured if he said it to himself a few times a week, the reality of the situation would block out the ‘vivid memories’ of his best friend.
“Shit, J, I know.” She’d pounded her fist in the sand angrily. “God, I’m sorry okay? I thought I could talk about it with you, and I shouldn’t have. Nevermind.”
It took him several minutes of staring at the sand like some sort of deranged imbecile before the curiosity got the best of him. “Tell me more,” he’d whispered.
“No. It’s stupid.” She’d said it to her magazine. “I was really tired, that’s all it was.”
“Rachael,” he’d huffed. “But maybe...maybe you weren’t.”
“Forget it,” she’d snapped her head up immediately. “I was tired.”
He’d debated what to say next, and thought that maybe...maybe if he hinted at the fact that she wasn’t alone in what she saw, she would tell him what really happened. “Maybe I’ve seen him too.”
“Oh yeah, right.” She’d glared at him. “You would say that, wouldn’t you?”
“Huh?”
“You just want me to tell you how crazy I am!”
He’d almost laughed at her. “You’re not crazy,” he’d reassured her.
“He just...he came into the kitchen,” she’d told him finally, her eyes glossed over with tears. “I was at the table reading a magazine. I think Elisha was out and you were at Maureen’s with your mom. He just...he just sat down next to me.”
Justin had only stared at her. It was the only thing he could manage to do, because it had been obvious that Trace had never been some figment of his imagination.
Trace had to be something much more than that.
“So naturally I just freaked the hell out, and started screaming at him. I fucking...threw my toast at him.” She’d rubbed her face with her hands and laughed sadly into them. “Then he laughed and told me to calm the hell down, and I just...I just cried, Justin. I started telling him how much I missed him and how much I loved him, like some kind of crazy woman. And he hugged me, and it...it was real, you know? I mean, his arms were really there around me, and he smelled like that stupid Abercrombie crap. But he was cold too, so damn cold.”
Justin forced himself more upright and dragged his legs closer to him so he could sit straight up. “Are you kidding?”
She’d shaken her head seriously, the way she did when she was confirming that he couldn’t cancel a stupid interview or appointment, and Justin knew she wasn’t lying. She had really seen him...felt him.
“He was there,” she’d whimpered. “I...I mean, it was just too real for him not to have been there, Justin, and he told me that he missed me, and that he was sorry he didn’t get to say goodbye.” She’d covered her mouth with her hand and looked away from him, sniffling hard, trying to regain control of her emotions so she could become his strong level headed cousin again.
Justin was floored, but didn’t exactly know what to say. He’d desperately wanted to tell her that he’d been talking with Trace all along. That he’d been there for him to talk to right from the beginning, and that...he had always felt he wasn’t crazy. That Trace was real. But he just didn’t know if it was the right thing to admit to Rachael. Even though she seemed to have an incredible story to tell him, a good part of him knew that she barely believed it herself. “Do you think it’s his ghost?” He’d finally asked her.
She’d shaken her head lightly. “I don’t know,” she’d croaked, finally letting her eyes meet his again. “Your mom...I mean, she told me that sometimes you think he’s there, and that you can talk to him.”
He’d rolled his eyes. “Of course she told you.”
“She felt like she had to, because I was going to be helping you out.” She’d explained. “Your mom means well Justin...”
“I know.” He’d snapped, silencing her. “But she’s not helping me by babying me and trying to decide what’s best all the time. I wish...I wish Trace would come around sometimes, you know? Put her in her place.”
Rachael snickered. “Whatever he is, he knows better than to mess with your mom, Justin.”
She was right, and a pang of despair had surged inside of him suddenly, longing for his friend. “So you believe it then? You...you really think you saw him?”
Rachael had only shrugged, and wiped the last of her tears away. “I don’t know what I saw,” she’d whispered. “But Trace was there that day, Justin, and it almost made me feel like I got a little closure, you know? Like, I know he’s okay, and that he wants all of us to move on with our lives.”
He’d nodded a little.
“Do you still see him?” She’d asked immediately.
He’d looked down at the sand again, and began to draw shapes into it with his fingers. “No,” he’d murmured. “He stopped coming around once I settled in at the house.”
“Well...okay, let’s not creep ourselves out. We’ve been stressed, you especially. It could have just been some kind of brain comforting thing,” she’d explained with more certainty in her voice than when she’d told him the original story of Trace’s appearance.
“Brain comforting thing?” He’d scoffed. “Rachael, it’s Trace. It’s been Trace from the fucking beginning. He never left, he sort of just...lingered.”
“Justin...”
“It’s the truth!” He’d yelled, trying to force it into her head. “He...he knows I still need him.”
“Then where the fuck is he? Why’d he stop coming around?”
Justin had only shrugged. He didn’t have an answer.
“Let’s just forget it. I needed to talk you about this and I’m glad I did, but I think we need to put it behind us before we freak our family out.”
Rachael was logical and Justin had known that from the beginning. He’d tried desperately to make the anger inside of him go away, because he shouldn’t have expected Rachael to side with him. To tell him that it was Trace’s ghost and that they should hold a seance to channel him back to them. It was stupid, and childish. Rachael had her closure, regardless of what she believed and he should have been happy for her. He should have asked her to help him seek his too...
But, sad as it was, he didn’t want that closure.
He wanted to keep Trace close, no matter what it cost.
“Promise me you won’t say anything to Elisha,” Rachael had spoken up again when he didn’t say anything else.
“What if she’s seen him too?” he’d found himself asking her before he could stop himself. “Maybe...maybe he just talks to her now instead of...
“Justin,” she’d groaned, cutting him off. “Please.”
“I won’t say anything,” he’d reassured her quietly, knowing it was the only thing she would accept.
She’d given his shoulder a little rub and smiled at him softly. “Think about Sheridan,” she reminded him. “Try to look forward to that, okay? Think about what you’d like to do with her, and maybe I can set some things up.”
It would have been great if he could have done that, but the truth was, it was impossible. He couldn’t focus on seeing Sheridan anymore than he could focus on the family party that was about to take place. The only thing he’d seemed to be able to do was wait for Trace, close his eyes and wish him to appear. He didn’t though. He just didn’t, and Justin found himself completely out of his element as the guests began to arrive that weekend. He was too tired, exhausted from lying awake all night long thinking about a way to make Trace come back and explain why he’d appeared to Rachael. What point did it make? Why was she good enough to talk to now but not him? Was he only good enough to frustrate? To confuse? Did Trace still hold that much of a grudge against him due to the accident?
He didn’t know, and he wasn’t getting any answers.
The worst thing about seeing family, was the fact that Trace’s parents had made the trip out too. He was frustrated because his mother hadn’t told him, but knew she figured she shouldn’t have to tell him. Elisha was having Trace’s baby, and that fact alone was enough for them to fly out and talk about their options with her. He’d barely made small talk with them as they’d first arrived, and didn’t approach them once they’d gotten settled in. Belinda had given him a long hug and a kiss on the cheek, and Trace’s father, Juan, had given him a firm handshake, but that was the extent of any warm feelings. Justin felt they still had a lot of mixed emotions built up against him, but that went without saying. He figured it was best to leave them to their business, despite the fact that they’d been like his second set of parents at one time in his life.
It was just easier that way.
Once the rest of the family arrived and got settled in, Justin stayed in the living room, parked in the far corner, sipping on a beer that Rachael had graciously given him once she ‘d realized he’d been bombarded, hugged and kissed one too many times by his aunts, uncles, cousins, and close family friends, some of which he hadn’t seen in over a year. Of course it was nice to see everybody for once. It had been too long, but he found himself set apart from them. Their lives and conversations were something he hadn’t been able to be a part of while he was staying at the ranch, and now...now he still wasn’t a part of them. He was in a wheelchair, and all people seemed to do was glance at him with doubt in their eyes, like he was fucking helpless. Even Paul, who he thought would have been strong for him and treated him like he always had, was a little bit distant from him as well. He patted his shoulder a lot, and when Justin brought up the fact that he was more than frustrated with his mother, the most he did was smile a little, laugh and say: “well son, you know how your mom is sometimes.”
It was like he was five years old again, sitting at the kiddie table while everybody else talked about important grown up things. He wanted to fucking scream, and to make matters worse, the boys hadn’t been able to come out either. Lisa had told his mother they had too much school work, but Justin knew otherwise. She was just too scared to let them see him like he was, and his father hadn’t even bothered to step up to the plate, tell his wife that they should have been able to come out.
Of course, Justin knew all too well that he could never really depend on his biological father for much of anything.
He’d let it go. He’d call them, get his brothers out to Los Angeles somehow.
“Some turn out, huh? Looks like my sister couldn’t make it though, or my brother either? Guess it must be too much for them, seeing you again.”
Justin had nearly dropped his beer when he heard Trace’s voice, and he knew the fury in his expression was more than obvious when he finally met his best friend’s gaze. “What the fuck are you doing?” He’d breathed out angrily. Trace was leaning against the wall beside his chair, one foot propped up against it, while he picked his teeth with a spare toothpick. It was as if he hadn’t been gone for weeks...like this was any other day to him.
“You need to calm down,” Trace had snickered. “Your face is beet red.”
“Fuck you,” he’d whimpered. “Where have you been? I’ve fucking...I’ve been going out of my mind here.”
“Look, you need to just get over me,” Trace had told him, defiantly. “I have things I have to do, you know? You’re holding me back.”
Story Tags: justinandtrace
