My Love, My Drug, My Release

March 12, 1969

"Am I showing?" Linda asked me as I sat on her bed scarfing down salt and vinegar crisps.

I pretending to consider it for a moment evening though her baby bump was obvious in her clingy, white shift before nodding. "A bit."

She huffed, stripping down to her hose and slip, searching through her closet. "I don't know what I'm going to do. The paparazzi would have a field day if they got a photo of me looking pregnant." 

I didn't know why she cared about what people thought all of a sudden, she'd always lived her life in a way gave her father ulcers. "Why don't you wear that coat over it?"

"This one?" 

"No, the mustard trench."

With a dubious expression, she pulled on the jacket, turning 360 degrees in her mirror. "This actually isn't half bad." She turned around, pecking me on the forehead. "You've always had great style."

I managed a half smile, but it faded quickly, and I turned to stare out the window. It'd been over a week since Jackson ran away, and there hadn't been so much as a phone call or postcard since. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about him, which I suppose made sense since Paul and Linda had a wedding to plan (with a massive ticking clock), but, at the same time, I hated them for their indifference. With every passing day, my resentment grew, threatening to rise to the surface. They assumed he'd ran off with some friends, but he could be rotting in a gutter while they planned their special day.

"Are you planning on wearing that?" Linda asked in reference to my grey slacks and black polo shirt.

"Well, yeah, I'm just going to wait here for you guys to get back."

Her blonde eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "What are you talking about? Of course you have to come to our wedding; you're my daughter, I want to share this day with you." She put her hand on my shoulders, looking into my eyes. "I know the past few days have been hard for you, but things will get better after this; we're going to be a real family, I promise."

"I'll go get changed," I whispered, hopping off her bed and trudging off to my room like a soldier going to battle.

Dad said the same thing, said that after he and Linda got married, everything would be better, we'd be a happy family. They'd been dating since a few months after my mum's passing- I knew Linda's face better than my own mother's- but they fought frequently, and it didn't stop after their wedding. I didn't mind that they got divorced, I didn't even really mind that the court sided with Linda, Felix Foxwell was never the most attentive father, in all honesty. What got to me was that everyone tried to fix my problems without actually listening to them. They did what they wanted and claimed it would benefit me in the end.

Brandon did that all the time. After I met with the police officer, I went straight to his apartment, and I'd spent almost every spare moment with him since. Even though I loved his presence, his arms around me, he could be a real tool. He kept saying that I'd be fine once we got to Bordeaux, I'd be happy and free. It didn't help that he never liked Jack to begin with.

I decided on my plain, black dress and my patent leather flats; simple yet tasteful. Linda, apparently, didn't agree.

"Really, that one again?" She sighed. "Alright, but take my pearls." She ran back to her room, coming back with a short strand of freshwater pearls, tying them around my neck. They came down to the top of my chest, just past the boatneck of my modest shift. "Much better, don't you think?"

Nodding, I gave her a brief squeeze. "Thanks Linda."

We walked down together, me slightly behind her. Paul was already downstairs, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, dressed in his suit, a mustard tie to match Linda's trench coat. When he noticed us, he smiled, kissing Linda's cheek before reaching for my hand. "Ready?" he asked.