Packing.
It was the only thing on her mind at the moment. Moving her life out, getting things back on track, and trying not to think about him.
Nate.
God, I feel like such a bitch.
Her mind played the scene over and over again: the heated kiss filled with so much hurt and resentment, his angry brush-off.
Jamie folded a stack of sweaters into an already stuffed duffel bag and tried to zip it up, with no success.
Grunting, she held the sides together and she tugged hard on the zipper.
"Dammit!" she exclaimed.
A laugh at the door made her look up.
Leaning against the doorjamb was her sister, her complete opposite.
"Need some help, Jay?" Rina Kincaid smiled broadly, her light brown eyes sparkling with amusement.
Jamie huffed. "Nah, Rina. I like almost giving myself a hernia from moving all my shit by myself. Remind me why you're here again?"
"Oh I'm just eye candy."
Jamie had to laugh. "Whatever. We all know I'm the pretty one in the family."
"Bullshit baby sister. You're lucky Dad's not here to listen to you spout those lies."
Rina picked up a cardboard box filled to the brim with paint supplies. Her sister was always crafting. "I'm sorry he couldn't make it to graduation..." Rina started. Jamie interrupted her.
"Don't apologize, Rina. It's not your fault he had a shoot in Fallujah." Roger Kincaid was a photojournalist, traveling all over the world for his career. Jamie recalled how difficult it was trying to establish a normal existence while her father constantly traveled and moved his family around.
Rina could see the hurt in her sister's eyes she was failing to cover up. "Hey Jay," she said trying as best as she could to pat her hand with the box awkwardly in her arms. "Don't sweat it. Cole caught every single moment on tape. We'll make an excellent DVD and send it to him."
Jamie smiled. She knew her sister was trying to make her feel better. After all, it wasn't her fault their father hated Jamie.
If only she didn't look so much like her. The one thing controlling Roger Kincaid couldn't ever control. Rina and Jamie's mother left the family when the girls were fairly old enough to remember.
The day played so vividly in her memory, it was as if Maureen Kincaid had walked away from her family only yesterday...
********
Twelve year old Jamie crunched another Oreo cookie into her mouth before reaching out to chug her tall glass of milk. Humming along to Radiohead's "Nice Dream", she finished the last of the Western Civilization questions for her History review.
The slamming of the backyard door startled her back into reality. Fifteen year old Rina sauntered into the kitchen, tossing her books on the table. "How many cookies does that make Jay? Nine?"
Jamie huffed indignantly. "Six, thanks. How many cigarettes today? Nine?"
Rina smiled, her skin glowing. "Four."
"Humph. What the hell are you so happy about?"
"Terrance Wells kissed me today by my locker." Rina flipped her long light brown hair over her slender shoulder. Jamie noticed everything about her was thin.
They were the complete opposite of one another; it was amazing they were even related. Everything about Rina was thin, from her Anglican nose, to her thin yet pouty lips. She was tall and graceful, thanks to many years of ballet. She moved with effortless agility, a feat clumsy Jamie had yet to master.
Jamie was short, one of the shortest in her class. She was a good forty pounds overweight with braces, black rimmed glasses and a shy half smile. Her skin was the color of sweet, freshly made caramel candies. Jamie couldn't understand why people were so enamored with her old boring sister. Sure she was pretty, but she was a pain in the ass.
Scoffing, Jamie returned back to her homework. "Who'd want to kiss that ugly old biscuithead anyway? Terrance Wells is always rubbing up on some stupid girl."
Rina's smile dimmed. "You're just jealous. Have you even been kissed before?" She smiled superiorly at her sister's silence. "Thought so."
Jamie was about to retort when Rina shushed her. "What was that?" she asked, glancing around the room.
She looked back at Jamie. "Are they here?"
Jamie nodded. "Course. Why do you think I have the music on?" She turned the radio off and the sounds that were drowned out before suddenly filled the room to capacity.
Screams, the sound of flesh hitting flesh. The smashing of something heavy as it hit the wall.
It was all so familiar, the two Kincaid girls should have been used to it. But it still sent a sliver of fear down Jamie's spine.
Rina sighed. "How long have they been at it?"
"Since I got home at 3."
Rina glanced at her watch. "That was almost forty minutes ago. You think she would have given up by now."
Jamie glared at her sister. "Momma's a fighter."
"Course she is. That's why all this is her fault."
Jamie opened her mouth, but quickly closed it. She didn't want to discuss this with her sister. Even at the age of twelve, she knew how stubborn Rina could be when it came to their father. He was an angel in her eyes; never mind the fact he threw a couple of punches their mother's way just to "keep her in line".
It wasn't anything too serious; a whack here if dinner wasn't finished by the time he came home; a slap there if he felt like she was talking too much.
She knew her mother deserved better. It was only recently that her Maureen started fighting back. One day, Roger slapped her and quick as lightening Maureen's hand connected with his cheek. Jamie had witnessed it all: the look of shock on both her parents' faces and the fear that slowly crept into her mother's.
Maureen dashed quickly up the steps before her husband could catch her, locking the bedroom door. A stunned Roger grabbed his keys and left quickly.
After that, things started to settle down but Jamie was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Apparently today was that day.
"Just be quiet," Jamie hissed. "Maybe things will settle down."
But things were going to get far worse.
Suddenly there was a loud crash followed by a pitiful wail.
A door slamming open made the girls jump up.
Maureen Kincaid came running down the steps. Her nut brown skin looked ashen and there was a small swelling cut under her eye.
Her slender brown fingers, the same ones that taught Jamie how to mold her clay and hold a paintbrush properly now held a gray suitcase tightly in its grasp.
She glanced around the room, as if looking at her daughters for the first time. Rina sat at the kitchen table, a slight glare on her pretty face. Jamie rose from her chair and walked over to her mother.
"Momma?" she whispered, gingerly touching her hand. Jamie could still feel how soft her skin was. She was always playing in the lotions and potions her Momma had on her vanity table.
Maureen looked down at her daughter's worried face. She tried to smile, but it came off as a painful grimace instead. "How's Momma's baby girl?"
"I'm fine Momma," Jamie said slowly. "Are you okay?"
Maureen shuddered slightly. "I'm good baby." Her gaze traveled back up to the stairs. "Um, Momma's goin' away for a little bit," she said, the soft Georgia twang still evident in her voice even after years of Northern living.
"When will you be coming back?"
"Not for a while, honey." Maureen went over to the owl-shaped jar Jamie had made for the house in fifth grade. Rina and Roger had made fun of it. One of the eyes was a little misshapen and it was painted in colors more suitable for a tropical parrot than a forest bird, but Maureen loved it.
Sticking her hand in the jar, she pulled out four large wads of cash. Stuffing two into the brown purse over her shoulder, she pushed the other two into Jamie's hands.
"Take these, honey."
"Momma..." Jamie protested.
"Mind your Momma, Jamie-bear. This is for you. You too Rina," she said, looking at her still-silent eldest daughter. "Take care of each other."
Grabbing her backpack, Jamie stuffed the bills into the front flap. "Take me with you," she whispered to her mother.
Maureen shook her head violently. "I..."
"There's no way in hell you're taking my children out of here." Roger Kincaid descended the steps, his voice dangerously low.
Rina stood up quickly. "I wasn't going anywhere, Daddy." She ran to stand by her father.
Jamie looked at her father. He looked so much like Rina. He was a handsome man; she could see why her mother fell in love with him. He was extremely light, his skin the color of coffee with more than a few generous splashes of milk in it. His wavy light brown hair and hazel eyes gave him that "passing" appearance. Yes, he was handsome; but beneath that pretty exterior lay the heart of a violent and troubled man.
"They're my children too, Roger. I have a right."
"The hell you do. Where are you going to go? You have no money."
Maureen set her shoulders back proudly. "You don't know a damn thing about me."
"I do know one thing: you take my kids outta here and you will be sorry."
Maureen's dark brown eyes settled into a hard glare. "Well, you better make sure you kill me because I guarantee I'll get up and cut your fuckin' balls off."
Jamie was taken aback. She had never heard her mother curse before. It was amazing. She moved to stand by her mother when her father caught her swiftly.