Rachel’s Risk – chapter 14

The door knocker was shaped like a jungle cat; Rachel couldn’t tell what kind.  All the other apartment doors had plain brass knockers; it was like her aunt to use something different, to make a subtle statement.  Rachel let it fall from her fingers and it banged against the striker plate.  Inside the apartment, she could hear Aretha Franklin singing.  The music died abruptly and the door swung open.

Kate scanned the hallway behind Rachel, yanked her niece into the apartment and shut the door behind her.  “You sure you weren’t followed?”

Although she was startled, Rachel quickly recovered and killed her smile before it reached her lips.  “Who do you think you’re dealing with?” she asked haughtily.

“My apologies,” Kate said.  “You can never be too careful.  I got the el-supremo pizza, extra everything.  A treasure like that … people would kill for.”

“You know you’re insane, right?”

Rachel’s Risk – Chapter 13

Safely home and upstairs in her bedroom, Rachel collapsed into the window seat and opened her notebook. On the window sill was a glass of vodka. Slowly, she read the half-finished poem she had begun in English class.

What are you getting for your daily bread
except days filled with misery and nights filled with dread?

Scrounging around from day to day
the moments begin to fade from your mind.
Inch by inch you’re slipping away
the clock ticks on, you’re running out of time.
Days turn into months and months into years.
Your lethargy deepens and
I’m drowning in your tears.

It doesn’t really matter, you know.
No matter where you go,
all eyes will be upon you.
The scars on your soul surfaced after all;
now they know your darkest secrets.
You will never be free again.

Scrounging around from day to day
the moments begin to fade from your mind.
Inch by inch you’re slipping away.
The clock has stopped.
You are out of time.

Rachel’s Risk – Chapter 12

While everyone else was celebrating the new year, Rachel was holding Jenny’s head as she vomited a bottle of wine and three tequila shots. The party was Jenny’s idea and she had invited Rachel along for the fun. Since Dan was out of town, Rachel had agreed, but now she wished she hadn’t.

Curious teens stared into the bathroom, laughing and making retching noises until Rachel shut the door. Gritting her teeth against her own gag reflex, Rachel wiped Jenny’s forehead with a cool washcloth, then brushed the hair away from her eyes. Jenny’s face was pale as a piece of chalk and she rested her head on the toilet ring, moaning softly.

“It’s okay, Jen, you’re going to be okay,” Rachel murmured. Gently she massaged the back of Jenny’s neck.

“I’m going to die.”

“No, you aren’t. You aren’t going to die. I promise.”

“I’m going to wish I died.”

“That’s probably true,” Rachel agreed. She reached up to flush away the residue when Jenny’s body clenched again and she let loose another stream, gagging and coughing. Rachel’s own stomach constricted, but she continued trying to soothe her friend.

Rachel’s Risk – Chapter 11

The night of the dance, Steve Harris greeted Dan at the door and let him into the house. A trench coat covered Dan’s suit and he held a wrist corsage in his hand. Dan had agonized over the selection of the corsage because he didn’t know what kind of dress was Rachel was going to wear. The posters around school announced the dance as semi-formal, but that could mean anything. Playing it safe, he took the salesperson’s suggestion and settled on the wrist corsage – that way it wouldn’t matter what kind of dress Rachel wore.

As Dan followed Mr. Harris into the living room, he heard a noise from the stairs to his right. Looking up, his breath caught in his chest and his mind went on strike again. Rachel was standing midway down the staircase in a brilliant red strapless dress that stopped at her calves. As she glided down to meet him, Dan opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Hello.”

“Hi. You look beautiful,” he managed. Then he remembered the corsage he was still holding and thrust it at her nervously, as if it were their first date.

Rachel’s Risk – chapter 10

Later that evening, her father left to meet Kate, and Rachel had the house to herself.

As soon as his car left the driveway, she went into his study and looked through his desk, searching for his canceled checks. When she left Dan that afternoon, she had practiced writing her father’s name, but no matter what she did, it looked like a girl’s handwriting. She was running out of time and ideas.

In the bottom drawer, Rachel hit pay dirt when she found a stack of last year’s checks. He wouldn’t want them soon and Rachel needed only one. Her mother wrote most of them, but she finally found one her father had written. Back in her room, Rachel placed the check between two pages of her notebook and painstakingly traced the signature. It didn’t resemble any of her previous attempts; it didn’t look like it said Stephen J. Harris. She repeated the process a few more times and then set the check aside. Below each traced signature, Rachel tried to duplicate the handwriting, getting closer with each attempt. Almost an hour later, Rachel had it down perfectly. Placing her most recent effort next to a traced signature, Rachel couldn’t tell the difference. Then she laid the notebook paper over the canceled check and held them up to the light. Her signature was larger than her father’s, but that was the only difference she could see. It would easily withstand her teachers’ scrutiny.

Rachel’s Risk – Chapter 9

Kate Collins’ home reflected her personality. A spacious and airy two bedroom apartment, it was furnished sparsely but with impeccable taste. A leather couch, matching recliner and a glass coffee table dominated the living area. An expensive looking stereo occupied one corner and Kate had mounted the speakers on the walls, near the ceiling. On the walls were framed prints and ink drawings she had collected over the years.

Kate taught history at a nearby junior college – her dream job was a full professorship at an Ivy League school, but this job suited her for the present. Tonight she was in the second bedroom, which served as her home office, grading papers and trying valiantly to ignore a stack of unpaid bills on the corner of the desk. Finally, she stood and stretched, tossing the test onto the pile she had already completed. Long strides carried her to the small kitchen where she poured herself another cup of coffee.

As she was walking back to her office, someone knocked on the door. She looked through the peephole and saw a distorted image of her niece. Immediately, her irritation dissolved and she opened the door to let Rachel in.

“Hi, Kate. Want some ice cream? I brought my favorite, super chocolate chip,” Rachel greeted her, offering a plastic bag.

Rachel’s Risk – Chapter 8

Thanksgiving came and went quietly, with no fanfare in the Harris household; it was simply a long weekend. College football games provided background noise on the television, while Rachel and her father created a Mexican feast of burritos, tacos and nachos. Everything was casual, a far cry from the holiday meals her mother used to prepare for the extended Harris clan. Neither mentioned her absence, although both felt it.

As the Christmas holiday neared, Rachel saw less and less to celebrate. It seemed the weather grew bleaker by the hour. About once a week the sky opened and dumped more snow on the ground. Icicles hung from the trees in her yard and Rachel began to believe that spring was just a dream. It would never warm up again.

Dan didn’t mention the incident at his house and neither did Rachel, although it was very much on her mind. Not all of the evening was clear in her mind and that was disturbing, but it didn’t make her stop drinking. She did recall swearing not to drink and drive again, but she had already broken that promise. Rachel felt she knew herself well enough to know when she was too drunk to drive. And that hadn’t happened yet.

Rachel’s Risk – Chapter 7

On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, the phone rang and Rachel answered, thinking it was Jenny. When she heard Joel’s voice, she sighed and mentally cursed herself for not letting the machine pick up.

“Hi, Rachel. Remember me?”

“Joel. How could I forget you?”

“So how was your weekend? How have you been?”

“The weekend sucked, thank you very much,” said Rachel sarcastically.

“Now what kind of attitude is that?”

“It’s the only attitude I have lately. Listen, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Then why didn’t you call me?” he fired back at her.

“Because I don’t have your number.”

“Write it down now. And use it.”

Rachel’s Risk Chapter 6

The front door clicked shut with a finality that Rachel felt in her bones. How did things get so out of hand? All she was trying to do was survive each day with some semblance of sanity, but every time she turned around, someone else was angry with her. Everything considered, Rachel thought she was handling herself remarkably well, but apparently not everyone agreed.

Rachel poured the dregs of the coffee into her mug, unplugging the machine before she went upstairs to her room. Glancing at the bed, she contemplated crawling under the covers, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep and the thought of facing her father was unappealing. Especially since he wanted to have the Great Closet Clearance today. Resolutely, she changed into a pair of sweats and sat on the floor to stretch out, thinking a long run would clear her mind, make everything go away.

As she stretched, Rachel noticed her makeshift vodka bottle poking out from under the bed. Leaning sideways, she got her hand around it and swung it closer. She stared at it for a few minutes, Jenny’s reprimand still fresh in her mind. So what if I drink? Everybody does. And besides, she thought, looking toward her father’s closed bedroom door, I learned from an expert. Rachel needed no further convincing and she quickly uncapped the plastic bottle and took a healthy slug, then one more for the road. Now the vodka filled less than a third of the two-liter container and she had stolen nearly a fifth, almost the whole bottle, from her dad. Oh well, I got away with stealing a bottle, maybe I can buy one.

Chapter 5 – Rachel’s Risk

The next afternoon, Rachel finished some of her homework before pushing it all aside and stretching at her desk. Her concentration was gone. All day, Rachel had been edgy and jumpy, feeling angry for no specific reason. Like an emotional hangover, the conversation with her father had left a sour taste in her mouth and though she tried to push it from her mind, the feeling stayed with her. What he was asking wasn’t unreasonable. Still, he was in such a rush to get it done, or finished as he had phrased it, that Rachel wondered if he wanted to replace her mother’s memory with someone else. Like Kate.

“Oh, no way,” she said to herself, pushing the chair away from the desk. With a noise that was half sigh and half growl, she left her bedroom and went to the kitchen. Maybe if she scrubbed the floor long enough, she could scrub that thought from her mind. Or just wear herself out so she couldn’t think at all.

The instant she walked into the kitchen, Rachel’s eye fell on the liquor cabinet. She hesitated only a second before she helped herself to the vodka. The alcohol burned her throat, making her gasp, but she felt better immediately. Then she looked at the bottle again. She had drunk a significant amount. Her father would never believe it evaporated. Reluctantly, she replaced the bottle in the cabinet.